#and everyone one who feels like this as well! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pellucid-constellations · 3 days ago

Text

I Have A Feeling You Got Everything You Wanted

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Falling in love with Azriel had never been in the cards. Falling in love with anyone other than the husband your father appointed to you had always been a far-fetched notion. And that was a truth you had lived by. 10 years ago.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Yearning, pining, all that is longing and angst and exes to lovers <3

a/n: Guys I adored writing this so I hope you love it!! Inspired by 'We Hug Now' by Sydney Rose. I so so appreciate hearing what you think. Thank you for reading!!

Read the continuation of Warren's story here

Main Masterlist ♡

You fiddled with the ring on your finger, passing it over your knuckle and twisting it back down.

Your stomach hurt, pain and nausea mingling with such severity you feared you would be sick. The thought was comical, in a way. The company at the table would be so concerned over their dresses and the obscenely expensive tablecloth that you could probably sneak away. But that would still be a feat considering the heavy palm resting on your thigh.

Warren was a nice man. He fulfilled his duties as the man you were to marry with dutiful purpose. He learned your favorite foods, how you liked your tea in the morning, and the shops you frequented. He touched you kindly, respectfully, and he was always nice to your friends. He was nice. But you were not in love with him.

In Warren’s defense, you were never going to be in love with him. Your father had decided that you should be, however, so you were promised to him from a young age. That was typical of the high fae with your family’s rank, and you had evaded that duty for some time now. Your father had given into your whims for several years, allowing you to “galavant around”, as he would say, acting as the Winter Court’s emissary until Warren’s family grew impatient.

Your return to Winter had been met with immediate wedding planning. You had been called upon for floral arrangements and the menu and to finalize the color scheme. Warren had done his best to quell his incessant mother’s demands, but the wedding was a court affair and everyone was thrilled.

Well, most were.

Before you had stepped foot in the Night Court ten years ago, you had been indifferent about the wedding. Sure, it wasn’t optimal to have to marry a man you knew so little about, but it had been an expectation since your birth. Warren may not have been your choice, but he was certainly not the worst choice when compared to the other eligible bachelors in the pool. You had left to act as emissary with a gentle begrudging that cared little for the future.

You had returned with so much indescribable longing that you had trouble speaking to others.

Every decision you made was accompanied by an inundating weight that threatened to crush you. You chose daisies for the aisle and you thought of him. You wore that ridiculous wedding dress with the high neck and drapey sleeves and you remembered how he used to touch you. You sat at this dinner, celebrating the joining of two families, and you reminisced on how it felt to sit with him, with his family, and to feel that you belonged somewhere.

The urge to be sick persisted as your future mother-in-law hoisted her glass in the air, bubbles losing weight and flying up to the rim.

It was cruel—all the mundane things that reminded you of him.

“To my son,” Warren’s mother toasted, white furs puffing around her cheeks. “And his new bride-to-be. We are overjoyed that the long-awaited day meets us!”

You gritted through your smile, raising your glass to your lips. The edge hit your teeth and the sound of the impact vibrated your brain.

“Oops,” you giggled, the splattering of fae wine against cobblestone suddenly hilarious. “Who did that?”

“I believe you are the only one in this alleyway, my love.” Azriel’s smooth voice sent a pleasant warmth up your spine.

You whirled around, night air kissing your bare shoulders. It felt electric when accompanied by Azriel’s adoring smile—addicting.

“You followed me,” you mused, curling your glass into your chest and stepping closer to the Shadowsinger.

Azriel met your steps without pause. “Of course I did.” You smiled at him, light and airy. He brought soft fingers up to brush along your face as he asked, “Are you alright?”

“More than alright,” you were quick to reply. “Just needed some air. It gets so hot in there.”

He hummed, eyes tracing over your features. “Want to go home?”

“I feel that Mor would be angry with me.”

“She would only be angry for a day. Buy her those shoes she was eyeing.”

“And why should I choose to go home with you?”

Azriel pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss. He moved back, only an inch, and whispered, “Come with me and you’ll find out.”

“That reminds me of when Warren climbed that icy tree in the courtyard. Oh, what a silly child he was!” A boisterous aunt clapped her hands as she shouted, snapping you out of the memory with a small jump.

Your chest ached as you breathed out a laugh and rejoined the table.

Beside you, Warren chuckled, his hand brushing lightly near your knee. “Please, do not bring up anything I’ve done before the age of twenty,” he pleaded. His eyes shone their pretty blues. His hair looked enticingly soft. “I don’t need y/n to have those images in her mind.”

He turned slightly, flashing you a small smile that spelled marital secrets and private conversations through eyes.

Where you should have felt the lightness of new love elating you, buzzing at your skin, you felt the increasing urge to cry. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t cry. You hadn’t cried since the night you left him.

“I’m sure it would only make you that much more endearing,” you teased, swallowing hard when Warren took your words as an opening to dive into a tale of the past.

He didn’t deserve this, in all honesty.

Warren was a nice man.

But Azriel—

“You are so beautiful.”

“You’re supposed to be watching, Az,” you admonished, tucking your face into his arm to hide the heat on your face.

“I am watching,” he argued. He leaned down, your back pressed to his chest, and kissed the skin above your ear.

“Not me. The stars,” you clarified.

You tilted your head slightly, meeting the crook of his elbow where it rounded your shoulders. He kissed you again and again, mapping out the top of your head with the delicate pecks. You laughed and that only egged him on. He turned you and pressed you back until your spine met the railing of the balcony, and then he was kissing your cheeks and your temple—the bridge of your nose and your brow.

“Azriel,” you tried again, but his smile was against your skin and he wasn’t listening. “You’re missing Starfall!”

“I can see it next year,” he murmured against you.

“And you can kiss me whenever you want.”

He paused, pulling back to catch your eyes. You smiled, confused at the serious moment in the otherwise light mood. He had no response to your confusion, only leaning back in to brush his nose against yours.

Maybe he had known.

You had foolishly thought this all to be avoidable, figuring your father would understand that you had found happiness. That he would have cared and given up on this unwanted marriage.

He hadn’t.

“Isn’t that right?”

You blinked, turning to your fiance with a haze in your eyes.

You hadn’t been listening.

The cake on your plate was becoming stale, its untouched state starkly contrasted with the empty glass of champagne to the left. You pulled your lips into a line, searching Warren’s encouraging eyes as he tried to help you. It didn’t work; you had no idea where the conversation was left.

“I’m sorry,” you bluntly stated, voice turned up into the posh tone your father had ingrained in you. You turned to address the table. “I seem to have been lost in my head. I didn’t sleep very well last night. Catch me up?”

Warren gave your knee a fond squeeze before removing his hand to place it on the back of your chair. He leaned down slightly, his voice lowering as he offered a gentle excuse for you. She has been so incredibly busy, he offered warmly, she’ll be even busier when the wedding is over.

You felt as if you were underwater. Your face lit up with another asinine smile and it was difficult to breathe. Not because you weren’t used to this setting—not because Warren was a bad man. This was supposed to be your life. This was what you were supposed to be doing.

There had never been any indication of a different path.

“I love you.”

You whipped your head to the side, abandoning the sketchbook in your lap as your charcoal rolled into the seat cushions.

“What?”

Azriel smiled. He leaned over the pillow separating you, tucking your knees further into your chest as he closed the space on the loveseat. “I said I love you,” he repeated, breath fanning over your lips. “I’ve told you before, but you haven’t heard me.”

You let out an incredulous huff of laughter, your gaze bouncing between both of his eyes. “When? I don’t remember that.”

“At the Sidra yesterday. Last week at the shops. Three days ago when you fell asleep on me.”

“No, you didn’t! I would have remembered.”

Azriel tucked your hair behind your ear and left his hand resting on your cheek. “You are often oblivious to your surroundings, my love. Especially when something is interesting in front of you like fish or jewels.”

You scoffed. “Not true. My father made sure I was very observant. My tutor would smack the back of my neck any time I got distracted.”

Azriel tutted, disapproval darkening his eyes as he brushed his scarred hand to cup the back of your neck. He shifted on the loveseat so you were sat on his lap, his other hand finding a home on the side of your thighs.

“That is cruel,” Azriel remarked. “Being distracted is in your nature. I don’t know if there is a time you are not distracted.”

“There are many interesting things to look at,” you mused, humming as his fingers inched up your scalp.

“I’m sure.” A pause. Azriel had the gall to look unsure. “You do not have to love me back.”

Your posture stiffened, the words leaving you before you could consider them. “I love you, Azriel. I love you, too.”

He seemed to slump against you at that, tension you didn’t know was there leaving his body. He offered you a warm smile and then kissed you—and kissed you and kissed you.

It had seemed like there was another path.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Warren announced to the table. A musician had begun to play the harp in the corner of the restaurant. “My bride and I have much to discuss tonight so we must retire. Please, continue to enjoy the night.”

Confused and disoriented, you took his gloved hand in yours and said goodbye to the correct people. You weren’t supposed to be the first to leave. This was your rehearsal dinner.

Warren guided you into the winding hall, his grip soft and reassuring. You attempted not to trip on your dress as you went, your head throbbing with an invisible pain that seemed to linger these months back in Winter.

It had been months without seeing him.

You were getting married the next day.

It would be final then.

The first step outside the restaurant was both invigorating and unpleasant, the cold air assaulting your senses. It did the job of snapping you out of your thoughts, but then you were left standing in the snow before Warren, and that was a similar form of torture.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he prompted, tugging your cloak over your shoulders. You had missed him grabbing it from the coat check. “You’ve been off since you returned but it’s worse tonight.”

Warren had known you peripherally before you left for the Night Court. You were to be married, so he made it a point to at least meet you before you were gone. He had not known you would be gone for years, but neither had you. The last time you spoke to Warren before you had met Azriel, a wilted salad sat between him and your father, the pair discussing politics and import prices.

Warren would not have known something was wrong, he hardly knew you, but he did anyway. Because he had made it a point to be a good husband.

That’s what made this even more tortuous.

Maybe, if he were terrible, it would be easy.

Your chin wobbled for a moment of breath. You’d pass it off as a chill.

“Nothing is wrong,” you smiled, cheeks already stiff from the cold. “I didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”

Warren closed his eyes, breath a white puff before him. “Don’t lie.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!”

Azriel tugged his hand through his hair. His face was flushed, feet taking him in a disorganized line around the room. “You are engaged.”

“Not by choice. I don’t know him, not really. I could tell my father—”

“You would be shunned—cut off. I know how noble families are, y/n.”

The use of your name struck you, a stark contrast to the soft, endearing terms Azriel so loved to use around you. You flinched unconsciously, eyes darting around his room to find some sort of explanation for this.

“I don’t care about any of that,” you urged. You remained rooted in the doorway, unable to move. “I’d stay here. I wouldn’t go back.”

“You would leave your family? Your… fiancé?” Azriel spit out the last word. The crumbled missive crinkled in your hand as you clutched it tighter.

“I would do anything to be with you.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t make this my decision.”

The paper fell from your fingers. You brought your palm to your chest, ignoring the harshness of his tone. “No, I know. This isn’t—this is my choice, Azriel. I want to stay here. To be with you.”

“I can’t be the reason you abandon your family. Your responsibilities. You—You lied, y/n. You never told me about any of this,” Azriel bit out, hands curled into fists.

“I’m sorry! I wanted to—I did—but I was so afraid you would be angry. And then I fell in love with you and—”

Azriel held his hand up, abruptly stopping your teary explanation. His chest visibility heaved. “You should go.”

“What?”

“Answer your father. Tell him you’ll comply with the date.”

Tears wet your cheeks, the silence following his demand pressing them down in heavy streaks. He stared back at you and he looked so angry, his eyes a calculated cold. He had never looked at you like that.

“You’re hurt,” you spoke, voice a mess of tears. “You don’t mean that.”

He only shook his head slightly. “I do.”

“Azriel, I love you. I was promised to marry him when I was born. I don’t—”

The muscle in his jaw feathered, effectively silencing you. His shadows were going haywire, half of them wrapped around their master, protecting him, the other half twining around your chest. Did they know you were in pain? Did they know your chest wouldn’t move?

“Okay,” you relented. More tears fell when Azriel only gave you a hard stare. “Okay, I—I’m sorry, Azriel. I love you—”

You choked on a sob when he turned around, apparently unable to watch as you broke down.

And that's what made this the most torturous of all; you could leave Warren—maybe—and Azriel still wouldn’t want you back.

You decided you wouldn’t lie to Warren just as you didn’t to Azriel.

“I fell in love.”

Warren nodded, barely blinking at your admission. “In Night?”

Your brow furrowed. “Yes, but—you aren’t angry?”

“I couldn’t expect you to tie yourself to me. You didn’t know me when we were engaged and I didn’t do the best job at getting to know you when we came of age.”

“I left.”

“To meet your soulmate, it seems.”

“We had no mating bond.”

Warren’s mouth ticked up at the corner. He adjusted the collar of your cloak and dusted the snow from your shoulder. “A mating bond is not always the answer.”

Faelight from the post beside the restaurant gleamed off the bronze hues in Warren’s hair. He leaned back, hands encasing your upper arms. “I’ve missed my chance then.”

Something soft fractured inside of you—because he was right. Warren could be all things kind and loving and he wouldn’t be Azriel. No one would be.

“I’m sorry,” you softly spoke. “I never meant—”

“Don’t apologize. Go to him.”

Your lips parted. “Warren, I couldn’t. We’re to be married tomorrow. I wouldn’t do that to you. And our families would be enraged.”

“I’m hardly concerned about our families. As much as I would have enjoyed marrying you—and I would have, please do not get that misconstrued—there are several noble ladies my mother has lined up and already ready, I’m sure. And as for your family… to be honest, y/n, you came back from Night brighter than I remember you. It seems you have another family waiting for you.”

It all sounded wonderful—wonderful and so, so easy. You’d have Warren as an ally and you could return to the people you’d called home for so many years. You’d feel at home. The loss of your homeland would sting, but it was a worthy sacrifice.

But then you remembered the anger and hurt in Azriel’s eyes, and this was no longer easy.

The light extinguished from your eyes, shoulders deflating in Warren’s hold. “I can’t. He was so angry with me.”

“When?”

You met the blues of his eyes, chest hollow. “He found out about our engagement the night before I returned. He told me to go. He was—Warren, he wouldn’t want me back.”

Warren clicked his tongue. “I can guarantee that he’s kicking himself over that. He didn’t mean it. Imagine you learned he was engaged after so many years together. That can’t have been easy.”

“I know,” you mumbled, ashamed.

“But—” he continued “—if he loves you, he would have regretted that the moment you left. Go back to him. Speak with him. If he turns you away we can still be married in the morning.”

“You would still marry me?” you deadpanned, brow raised in amusement.

“It’s either you or the girl my mother surely has on standby.”

You scoffed out a laugh and pushed at his chest. He grabbed his sweater in mock pain, a charming smile playing on his face.

Despite the task that awaited you, you felt lighter. You let out a resolute sigh before saying, “You’re going to be a wonderful husband, Warren.”

He looked up at you from where he had bent his neck, peeking out from below his lashes. “Just not to you?” he asked.

“Not to me,” you affirmed.

The air in the Night Court felt different—shimmering, somehow, although that may have been chalked up to the anxiety coursing through your veins. The crystalline silk dress still adorning your frame stood out against the dark hues of the court.

It had been a feat to get up to the house. After winnowing into the outskirts of Velaris, you had prayed Mor was home to the tune of several knocks on her door. She was—thankfully—and seemingly more than happy to see you. She had rushed through a tale of how terrible Azriel was doing without you that quickly morphed into a lecture about how pissed she was that you left without a proper farewell.

You had apologized, and she had sent for someone with wings.

Cassian appeared next, rattling off much of the same as Mor only with more shouting and less snapping. After several apologies, Cassian brought you up to the House and then promptly left to the opposite side of the House.

And so, you were left alone with an insurmountable task.

The halls of the House were painfully familiar, each step a reminder of the life you once thought to be forever. You passed your room—only used for the first few months before you made a home in Azriel’s—several sitting rooms, the kitchen; Azriel’s door was closed.

You hadn’t knocked on it in years.

You sucked in a breath, allowing it to fill your chest and then your stomach, and then you knocked. And knocked again.

“I told you to leave it, Cassian,” came Azriel’s reply. “I don’t wish to talk about it.”

His voice was rough and thick. You knocked again, listening close to the wood for the sound of footfall or movement. You only heard Azriel’s bed shift.

You knocked again.

No answer.

Well, if you were going to do this it wasn’t going to be halfway.

You turned the knob, the metal cold and reassuring under your palm. You had done that before.

Azriel’s room was much of the same. Some things were missing; paintings on the wall had been removed, the side of the bed you typically slept on looked all but bare, his curtains had been changed.

Your gaze went out before it went in, and when it went in, you saw him. Hunched over on the side of his bed, Azriel sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His fingers were threaded through his hair, his room almost unseeably dark. He didn’t look up when you entered.

“I want to be left alone,” he grunted out. He sniffed. “Tell me after she’s married and only then.”

He knew you were getting married tomorrow. He had kept track.

Obviously, that had been a possibility, but you had expected more avoidance. He was angry with you—at you. He couldn’t even look at you when you left, hadn’t told you he loved you as you packed your things and vanished. It would have made sense if he resented you. If he stayed away from all things that involved you.

“I am not getting married.”

His head snapped up at a vicious speed, hands falling into his lap just as quickly. His shadows, once in a clump at his feet, exclaimed in the air before cautiously edging towards you. He took you in, eyes roving over your figure in a panic. You caught the reflection on his cheekbones in the small amount of light filtering past his curtains. His eyes were swollen, his face gaunt.

His voice cracked as it formed the sounds of your name.

Nerves caught up with you. You closed the door behind you and stayed rooted in the same spot you had left him in, feet creating an indent by the wall. You played with your fingers at your waist.

“Um, hello,” you greeted, clearing your throat. It hurt to look at him, you realized. You tore your eyes from his ruined expression to gaze down at your hands. “I realize you told me to leave. And I did—I had every intention of following my father’s requests as you told me to do. But—um. Warren could tell something was off. I was trying my best, I swear I was, but it was hard to fall back into that role after spending so much time here. After being comfortable here. With you.”

You chewed at your cheek for a moment. A bad habit you had picked up in the months back in Winter. Azriel’s bed creaked. He’d stood up.

He was going to leave. You needed to get this out, quickly.

“I know you’re angry and I’m so sorry, Azriel. I had foolishly thought I could avoid the fate my father had set out if I just ignored it. If I just lived out my life here with you. I thought it would all go away so I never told you about Warren and—”

“Please,” Azriel interrupted. “Stop saying his name.”

You could feel his presence. Now directly in front of you, his shadows became more comfortable and had taken to sliding along your skin. Azriel stepped forward until you could hear his breath, but you refused to look up. You couldn’t.

You apologized instead. “I just came back because… I just wanted you to know that you have become my family. You had said that I was making a choice between you and my family, but that’s not true. I feel at home here. And you can tell me to leave again. You can and I’ll—”

“Look at me.”

You sucked in a breath, picking at the skin of your palm.

Azriel placed his thumb and forefinger on your chin, tilting your face up to his. The first touch of his skin against yours had warmth blooming in your gut, but it was quickly replaced with a tight ball of anxiety when his eyes met yours.

“Gods, I’ve missed your eyes,” he all but sighed. You backed up a step until your back met his door. He followed. “Is it my turn to talk?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded.

“Letting you leave—speaking to you like that—has been my greatest regret,” he began, the gravelly nature of his voice conveying more than his words ever could. His lashes were damp as they fanned against his cheeks.

“I didn’t tell you the truth. You had every right—”

Azriel pressed his thumb to your bottom lip and trained his eyes on the skin he displaced. He winced with a slight shake of his head. “I’m talking, my love.”

He continued. “I did not have the right. I was hurt, you were correct, but I wasn’t listening. It was unfair of me to react that way. I wanted you to come back the moment you left.”

“Then why didn’t you come get me?” you whispered.

“I thought you had everything you wanted. I figured—y/n, I have never been the best option. I’m a killer. I have hang-ups. I wanted you to have a way out.”

“I didn’t want a way out,” you stressed, gripping Azriel’s wrist. He had moved his hand back to cup your jaw. “I wanted you. I didn’t care about any of that. I was willing to throw away my entire life in Winter to stay.”

“I know.”

“And then you told me to leave.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair.”

Azriel let out a tortured breath. His shoulders sagged and his forehead met yours, even though he didn’t ask, even though you weren’t sure who was mad at who anymore. You kept your eyes open as his closed, watching his face twist.

“Wanted?”

You drew back. “What?”

Azriel’s eyes opened. “You said wanted. That you wanted me. That you were willing to stay.”

You could only stare at him.

“Does that mean… is this irreparable?”

“Why do you think I’m here, Azriel?” A broken, defeated smile donned your face. “I don’t think we could ever be irreparable. I don’t think I’d have the strength to keep that up.”

He was kissing you, a hurried press of his lips against yours, and his sticky cheeks became wet once more as they brushed against yours. His hands found the back of your head, your waist, pulling you in closer. His wings came around to keep you in place—unnecessary. You weren’t going to leave.

He pressed harder still, barely enough air between you to breathe. He took the small amount that was there, whispering apologies and declarations against your lips.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Azriel.”

“Please don’t marry him.”

“I won’t.”

“I love you. So much.”

You kissed him more, softer, and he let you set the pace. At some point, his feet had guided you to the plush surface of his bed, positioning you at the head without ever breaking from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said again—a kiss to your jaw, one along your temple. “I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. Showing you how much I love you.”

“It’s okay, Azriel. I’m sorry too—”

“Don’t. Please. I played out you returning to me so many times in my head. You never apologized in them. You have no reason to.”

You threaded your fingers through the hair on his nape, eyes cast softly up as he hovered above you. “I could have been more open.”

“I’ve thought about that. I—I was foolish to think you’d want that future. You are nothing like the woman they have forced you into the mold of.”

A small smile. “So you’ve noticed?”

Azriel only kissed you once more before a seriousness cast over his face. “Were you… treated well?”

“Treated well?”

“I believe his name is Warren.”

You fought back a laugh at the way he mumbled the words. “You’re worried he was cruel?”

“Among other things. I know how noblemen can behave.”

“And when did you begin to worry about that.”

“From the moment you said his name was Warren.”

You did laugh that time, shifting on the bed until Azriel laid on his back. You rested along his side, palm flat on his chest. Like a moth to a flame, Azriel’s wings captured you in their own hold. “Warren would have made a good husband. He is a kind man—doting, even.” Azriel tensed beneath you, but you only smoothed your fingers down the plane of his chest. “But I didn’t love him. Maybe I could have tried, before I met you. But not after.”

Azriel rested his hand atop yours, squeezing your fingers. “I will thank him then. For caring for you when I did not.”

You looked at him softly, removing your hand to brush stray hairs from his forehead. “He told me to go to you. I was at my rehearsal dinner. I think if I had opened my mouth I would have said your name.”

He responded with a hand rubbing circles into your back. You laid your head on his chest. “Things will be different now. I can’t go home for a while.”

“You are home,” he replied. “Things may be different, but I will never be different. Not when it comes to you.”

Read the continuation of Warren's story here

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #acotar #acotar fanfiction

984 notes · View notes

rafesangelita · 15 hours ago

Text

♡ what happens when the man you’ve been having anonymous phone sex with asks you to come over to his place so you two could have a date of your own?

warnings: mean!rafe, enemies to ???, brief descriptions of phone sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, mutual pining, praise, orgasm control, orgasm denial, degradation, flirty banter

a/n: this is part three of this mini series! thank you so much for all the love on this series so far, i wasn’t expecting such an outpoor of support <3 if you ask to be added to the taglist and i don’t reply, don’t worry!! i promise i’ve seen it and have added you!

links: previous | next | mini series masterlist

wc: 2.8k

“..you sound pretty.”

you froze, the slightly familiar voice sending a shiver down your spine. “who’s this?” you swallowed thickly, already having a gut feeling. “you know who i am.” with a demeaning tone like that, you only had one guess. “so out of all of the usernames you could’ve came up with; ‘country club’ was the one that stuck?” rafe smiled to himself before taking a drink from the liquor in his glass. he was alone on the druthers now with nothing but you on his mind, along with his mystery girl that he never stopped thinking about.

“it’s just a nickname a friend of mine gave me,” he explained, “no one else knows me by it so that’s why i chose it.” you hummed, a hint of curiosity piquing your interest. “really? who?” you asked him in a poor attempt to get something out of him. “ah, you wouldn’t know him. he’s from the cut.” now you were really interested. “the cut? how did you end up being friends with someone from over there?”

rafe was quiet for a few moments.

“it’s a long story. i think you’d find out who i am if i told you about it.” you tried to think about any drama or gossip that chanel may have filled you in about at some point but ultimately came up empty handed. “i see..” deciding to change the subject, you asked him about something that actually had relevance. “so what had you so wrapped up earlier?” rafe sighed, your pictures from earlier flashing in his mind.

“i was on a date— if you could even call it that,” he laughed, “the amount of bitchy attitude this girl throws at me every time i see her is crazy.” you ignored the spark of jealousy that lit up in your core, your eyes narrowing as you thought of all the things he could’ve been doing with someone else that wasn’t you.

rafe had a very specific reason for bringing someone else up and just like he had hoped, you fell right into his trap. “yeah? you should probably call her and talk to her instead.” you were quick with your remark, rolling your eyes before settling underneath your plush comforter.

“i think i already am.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, a sense of panic washing over you as you thought about your earlier encounter with rafe. could you really be the girl that quote unquote ‘throws bitchy attitude at him every time you see him’? it would be hard to tell considering you threw bitchy attitude towards everyone, but still, his words caused your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. “no, that’s impossible.” to be in denial when you two were this far along in your arrangement was simply delusional, but you couldn’t help but deny his theory.

“you think so?” he sat back in his seat overlooking the water. “i know so. cause i went on a date tonight as well.. and i personally find the guy insufferable— hot, definitely, but insufferable nonetheless, and i’d like to think that if me and you have ever talked or interacted in person we’d at least get along in some way.” now it was rafe’s turn to feel jealousy burn through his chest at the mention of you going on a date with someone else other than him.

“you went on a date?” the calm tone in his voice was now replaced by assertiveness, his jaw clenching as he imagined you getting all dolled up for some loser. “yes.” you don’t know why, but you felt like you had did something wrong. “and you said he was hot?” rafe downed the rest of his drink, pouring himself another shortly after. “yes..” you answered again, a hint of a smile playing on your lips, “i’d fuck him even though i told him it would never happen.” if rafe couldn’t understand what was so similar between you and his personal internet slut then, he definitely knew what it was now. you had to be her.

rafe thought about your words from earlier.

“why i don’t like you, or why i won’t let you fuck me?”

you had such a smart mouth on you, the only thing rafe could think about was how he’d shut you up by filling your throat up with his cock. “it’s funny you say that. i could’ve sworn my brat of a ‘date’ said the same thing to me.” suddenly you felt like you were in enemy territory, every single one of your sensible instincts urging you to hang up the phone. “uhm—” you cleared your throat awkwardly, “i wonder if she has any idea that i’d fuck her senseless if only she’d let me.” your mind drifted off to rafe again, and the way he was looking at you before you left; as if he knew you something you didn’t.

“tell her that next time you talk to her.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as he muttered a ‘i will.’

deciding to move into the cabin inside the druthers, rafe slid the door shut behind him before be turned the lights off, a groan leaving his lips as he took a seat on the couch. “so why’d you call me? you know, since you’re obviously interested in someone else.” rafe scoffed, rolling the tension out of his shoulders before blinking up at the ceiling. he was amused by everything that came out of your mouth. “i’m not interested in anyone else. i think i have you figured out, and if i’m right then this couldn’t be anymore perfect.”

rafe imagined you being the one on the phone with him right now, your hand in between your thighs as you got off to the sound of his voice. he imagined you wearing nothing, those pretty tits of yours on full display. “and if you’re wrong?” you teased. “i’m not. i can’t be.” while you had no idea who he could be envisioning, you had no problem waiting for the day to prove him right or otherwise. “i guess we’ll just have to play the waiting game until we can’t anymore..” rafe hummed in agreement. “well that won’t be very long then.”

you hoped not.

there was a beat of silence before rafe’s voice sounded through your receiver. “sooo.. what are you wearing right now?” you groaned, the cliché and overused line making you shake your head. “you have seriously got to come up with something better to initiate this,” you fiddled with the string of your robe, “but i’ll work with you just this once.” if only you could see the look on rafe’s face right now. “sorry i’m not an experienced phone sex expert, i prefer my sexual encounters in person.” he laughed when you cursed under your breath. “ugh, goodnight.”

while rafe thought you were joking, you had really hung up on him, leaving him both turned on and frustrated.

[10:57 PM] brattydiaries: 1 attachment

[10:57 PM] brattydiaries: and to think.. i really wanted to touch myself. oh well, i’ll see you around ‘country club’

rafe was pissed when he opened your message and saw a picture of you completely naked in your silk robe, his cock stirring at the sight. he could’ve had you rubbing your clit by now if only he would’ve went easy with the remarks.

[11:00 PM] countryclub: you’re gonna make me work hard for it aren’t you.

[11:01 PM] brattydiaries: oh, you have no idea.

and that’s exactly what rafe did. he was persistent, making sure to call you every single night after that until you finally approved of his efforts. he knew from the moment he heard you moan on the phone that it was all worth it.

“f-fuckk, i can’t!” you cried out in frustration as rafe denied you another orgasm. you’ve been at this for an hour now, your panties drenched with your arousal as he taunted you on the other line. “yes you fucking can, you don’t cum until i let you, you understand?” you huffed, your clit aching with sensitivity as you shuddered at his words. “you made me wait all this time to get you like this, you can hold out just a little bit more for me.” rafe grunted, his own hand palming himself through his boxers.

you shuddered, your eyes fluttering shut as he told you all about the things he’d do if he had you there with him. “i’d fucking wreck you, baby,” he moaned, thinking about fucking you to tears until you couldn’t handle it, “fuck’ that attitude right out of you and get you all pathetic and desperate. just like you are right now.” you were at the point where you couldn’t even touch yourself anymore, your orgasm being just in arm’s reach. “please!” you whimpered, your thighs trembling with the need to let go, “i’ve come close so many times already.”

as odd as it may sound, rafe hasn’t let himself cum ever since you two started having phone sex. messaging each other and sending pictures was different— but now that he had your voice in his ears, it made everything feel real. he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let himself finish until he had you in the palms of his hands. maybe it was a way for him to torture himself, but he was determined to make it happen. you were going to be his no matter how long it’d take.

“you’ve gotten so good at begging me for it, you don’t even put up a fight with me anymore.” rafe laughed, thinking about all the times that you were the one turning him down, now you found yourself being completely at his mercy. “..fuck you.” you whined, writhing under your sheets. “soon enough.” rafe whispered, still listening to your pleads. “i could make myself cum right now,” you said breathlessly, “..and you wouldn’t even be able to stop me.” rafe’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“do that and you won’t hear from me for three weeks straight. thank god for a block button, right?” you scoffed, your chest rising and falling as you rubbed your thighs together. “matter of fact.. just for that poor excuse of a threat, you’re not cumming at all.” you didn’t get to rebuttal before he hung up, your eyes widening before you groaned. asshole.

“okay, i love our little bottomless mimosa dates but i’m still recovering from last night.” chanel laughed, adjusting the sunnies on her nose. you and your group of girlfriends were out on the patio at the country club, your table filled with fruity drinks and half empty glasses. “oh my god, you should’ve been there, y/n! it got so crazy that someone called the cops and the whole thing had to get shut down.”

you were only paying half attention to what was being said, majority of your focus being.. elsewhere. specifically— rafe out on the golf field, his skin glistening with sweat as the blazing outer banks sun beat down on him. “it sounds crazy.” you hummed, nodding even though you only heard the first half of chanel’s sentence. she eyed you, following your line of vision before a smug grin pulled at her lips.

“so.. how come you’ve been m.i.a?” just as rafe looked up to meet your gaze, you snapped out of your reverie, blinking away. “forreal, it’s like you’ve disappeared these past few weeks.” you looked around at your friends, a nervous laugh escaping from you. how do you even explain to anyone— let alone your best friends, that you haven’t been to any parties or hangouts because you’re too busy getting talked through your third, sometimes fourth, orgasm of the night?

it’s simple; you don’t.

“i’ve been doing a lot of stuff for my parents. it just gets so tiring sometimes, you know?” chanel knew you were lying, but that was a conversation for another time. thankfully, no one questioned you any further and you were free to look back at the man who, for some reason unbeknownst to you, has been plaguing your mind. ever since your little awkward debacle on his boat, you two hadn’t really interacted with one another except the weird lingering stares you’d catch each other doing. you’d be lying if you said things didn’t feel a little bland without having him around as much.

“i’ll be right back.” you excused yourself, swinging your purse over your shoulder as you made your way inside. taking a seat at the empty bar, you looked around cautiously before opening your tumblr messages.

[3:08 PM] brattydiaries: i have on a super short skirt today.. maybe you could catch me somewhere

you stared at the screen for a minute, hoping he’d answer right away before you sighed to yourself and rested your chin in your hand. apart of you couldn’t help but feel bad. you should be outside with your friends right now, engaging in the latest island drama and raving about celebrity gossip but instead you’re here at a bar all by yourself feeling pathetic as ever because you couldn’t help but grow semi-attached to this ‘countryclub’ guy.

“can i buy you something to drink?” you looked up at rafe as he took a seat next to you, his large frame still towering over you even while he was sitting down. your heart started beating in your ears at the close proximity, your eyebrows pinching together at the overwhelming feeling currently swimming in your tummy. you never got nervous in front of guys, but all of a sudden rafe’s thigh is brushing against yours and now you’re shy? gross.

“i was just leaving actually.” you cleared your throat, avoiding the burn of his stare on the side of your face as you quickly scooted out from your chair. you didn’t even get to get up before rafe pushed your seat back in. “i wanna talk to you.” he sounded like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, the firmness in his tone making you swallow thickly. staring at him for a few moments, you obliged, but not before ordering the most expensive thing on the drink menu.

“so what do you want?” you faced him, watching as he downed his scotch. “i, uhm— are you busy this weekend?” arching a brow, you thanked the bartender once he slid your overly dressed up cocktail in front of you. “yes, very.” no, you weren’t, but he didn’t need to know that. “well.. i would really appreciate it if you could make the time to come over to my place, ‘say around seven?” you blinked, not understanding clearly. “what’s the occasion?” you asked confusingly. “no, not a party. just us two.”

that grabbed your attention immediately. you sat there, replaying his words in your head until it finally registered. “just us? at your house this weekend at seven o’clock?” he nodded. “i already told you i’m never having sex with you, rafe.” the man in front of you rolled his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. “god, y/n,” he groaned, “as much as you’re breaking my heart right now, that’s not the reason why i’m inviting you over.” you giggled at the annoyed expression on his face, flipping your hair over your shoulder as he glared at you intently.

“so what’s the reason then? why would i ever go over to your place, rafe? enlighten me. please.” while rafe was secretly hoping you’d just agree and go on with your day, he should’ve known you weren’t going to be easy to obtain. sighing, he leaned in closer, his chest brushing the side of your shoulder. “look; last time we were by ourselves you told me that you didn’t like me because i was talking about you first, which by the way— i want to apologize for,” he started, “i feel like we got off on the wrong foot and i wanna start over.” you turned your head, his face just inches away from your own.

“i should’ve never said anything about you without knowing you first.” you two stayed silent for what felt like an eternity before you softly nudged him away. “okay, i get it, you don’t have to get all softie on me, rafe.” the corner of his lips tugged into a smile when he saw how flustered you got. “is that a yes?” you almost lost it when his fingers brushed yours, your stomach bursting with buttetflies at the small action. “fine,” you sighed, “but i still don’t like you.” rafe blinked slowly, restraining himself from jumping out of his chair. “that’s fine, i’m not asking you to.”

just as you were going to smart mouth him, your phone dinged! with a message from chanel. “well thanks for the drink, i’m going back out.” rafe watched you get up, his eyes trailing down your figure until they settled on your bare legs, your heels clicking against the floor as you walked off. “hey, y/n?” you spun around at the sound of his voice, muttering a ‘what?!’ before he winked.

“cute skirt.”

taglist: @meallan01 @sf1738 @emeloyy @hmmshhhh @chelzaa @starkeycore @liyah4evaaaa @hnybitches @urbimom @kittenjujusblog @femaholicc @lil-sparklqueen @yktayy9669 @matthewswifeyy @icaqttt @jjasmiineee @lilithblackkk @rafecameronswhoore @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @ditzyzombiesblog @i-love-gvf @blondrafe @wolf-2005 @brianquinnlvr @lightbluebaby @jkrafe @lovemaybankk @xcinnamonmalfoyx @drewstarkeysbabe @issues4him @dahliaparton @slut-4-gojo @luvagirlsworld @nemesyaaa @jwdiaries @midsoulz @drewstarkeyzwhore @urmotherlvr @chillgal135 @wtfisastiles @dollyfiles @annaconscience @rafesluvr @locallyhateddoll @acidfeens @cherubfille @whathechickenstrip @my-name-is-baby @wtfdudesblog @atjlovverr

581 notes · View notes

brainfuzz · 3 days ago

Text

Yeah, it took me a long time to get over the "career" mindset. I am much closer to the end of my working career than I am to the beginning, and I've determined that for the vast majority of people, having a career is bullshit. We have jobs.

When I was younger, I bought into the whole "find your calling, do what you love and you'll never work a day" nonsense. I spent decades A) trying to figure out my calling, B) wondering if my lack of a "calling" was just another way I was broken and C) ruining the love I had for something by turning it into work. Some people do feel a pull towards careers; everyone knows someone who's wanted to be a doctor/vet/teacher/etc since they were little, and then went on and did that thing. For most of us however, we just get a job and plod along in our lives with a vague feeling of maybe we should be doing something else.

Once I reframed it to I enjoy doing these things, and I need money to feed all my little hobbies, therefor I need a job, and preferably one that pays well, things changed. I no longer felt a need to prove I was dedicated and get things done after work hours. I didn't feel obligated to pick up the phone when work called on the weekend or on my day off. The stupid shit people did during work got left at work.

Instead, I played with my kids. I took up beekeeping. I read more books. I built more Legos. I tried different hobbies, and dropped the ones I didn't like. I picked up hobbies I'd had as a kid and forgotten I'd enjoyed.

Will I ever be recognized as an expert by people in my industry? Hell no. But I gave friends and family a lot of honey this year. I made my great-aunt a lap blanket that has a pocket for her feet so she's warm. I've made and donated crate pad to the local animal shelter. I adopted a feral cat that moved into my woodshed and now can hear her purring from across the room.

Fuck careers. Make money so you can do the things you enjoy, because without that, there's no point in working.

I don’t WANT a career. I want to cuddle and sleep and eat and read and create and love and be loved.

70K notes · View notes

musette22 · 3 days ago

Note

Speaking of a “dead” fandom. Do you have a list of Stucky blogs to follow? I need to follow more and go through my followers list for fandoms I’m not in anymore but… also maybe that would help some people who are new to the fandom as well? 🎉

Mandy, my love! Great idea, thanks for asking! ❤️ It's been a really long time since I did a blog rec list, because I am genuinely terrified of missing anyone out and potentially making someone feel bad 🙈 That would never be my intention, obviously!

But I swear, from the bottom of my heart: if you're not on this list and you feel like you should have been, it was most likely just one of those brain = sieve things and nothing personal at ALL. Which is also why I want to wholeheartedly encourage anyone who also considers themselves a Stucky-centric blog and would like to be added to this list to let me know/drop a comment in the notes/reblog with a note etc. etc. The more of us the merrier!!

Also, if you're included in this list but you would rather not be, for whatever reason, let me know and I'll remove you! No hard feelings. I also think there are a couple of blogs that are no longer super active / mainly Stucky blogs, but I did check that they all posted at least in the last couple of weeks, so most of them should still be active!

The Tumblr tag limit per post is sadly 50, so not all @'s on the list will be clickable and not everyone will get a notification of this, so I'm going to try to tag the blogs that aren't tagged under the cut in the notes instead, in order to notify them (so those added there by me are the same ones as on the list below)

Stucky blog recs under the cut, in no particular order!

@fandomfluffandfuck

@rillils

@buckvrogers

@sparkagrace

@voylitscope

@gloromeien

@metalbvcky

@dharmasharks

@leihaddock

@amarriageoftrueminds

@lavenderbuckyy

@steviesmarigold

@randomfandompenguin

@writeyourdarlings

@scriggle-scraggle

@wewringmagicfromtheordinary

@beardoesdoodles

@stuckydrewx

@yourbuckies

@smerfols

@incorrectstevebucky

@steveandbvcky

@riricitaa

@bluesimplicity

@dreadlockholiday

@stuckytogether

@hereforhappystucky

@stevebuckythyla

@luna-rainbow

@caps-boo-bear

@howdoyousleep3

@estelior

@stoveandhisbucket

@im-just-a-random-fandom-girl

@godmerlin

@capibuck

@fenrir-flamekeeper

@bucky-boychik-barnes

@ace-bucket

@shkretart

@smlmsworld

@hipsterdiva

@mentalmeles

@airybmore

@stevefightmerogerss

@guiltypleasureisfun

@twomisplacedsouls

@zenaidamacrouras1

@ace-in-reserve

@msilverstar

@gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes

@thevampireazula

@booksandabeer

@xoxobuckybarnes

@bromcommie

@burberrycanary

@partofthefandom

@fsbc-librarian

@fsbc-stucky-library

@cinnamoncascadian

@wintershield-always

@evenwhenihadnothingihad-stucky

@aimmyarrowshigh

@dienaziscum

@lilyinthesnow

@thestuckynation

@kaiya3333

@son-justdont

@stuckytoyoulikeglue

@norelationtoatticus

@transstuckywriter

@steverogersnotebook

@onecontinuoussigh

@fizz-pop-thwip

@whiteglovemanor

@arctic-turtle-cassiopeia

@artwinx

@behindthesehazeleyes27

@haz-n-boo-world

@steebling

@montyc

@forwritingwork

@steevbuckk

@its-tortle

@raven-writes-fanfic

@sarahowritesostucky

@burnin-brighter

@stevebvck

@geekinthefuschiahair

@innerslumber

@postmodernmulticoloredcloak

@sebastian-lips

@not-withoutyou

@circaclementine

@vincentvanh03

@bisxualbucky

@thesocietyporg

@aciremii

@ywecanthavenicethingsanymore

@turtle-steverogers

@steviesunrises

@somanywords

@karrieharrie

@between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place

@supersoldiercore

@livingoutload

@winterbaebucky

@reducedemtasketch

@preyasi

@bittersweet-in-boston

@stucky-just-stucky

@rachelica9

@kiu-k

@stucky-in-love-with-you

@fishyandclintbarton

@hey-rissyroo

@possibleplatypus

@ariane-giudice

@backonefish

@martelldoran

@schoolyardtobattlefield

@kalee60

@chubbiedumpling

@cat-ws

@greyhoundsgirl

@winterofthedarkestlight

@deadto27

@petite-madame

@kijrbds

@deusv-ult

@weeklybuckydoodles

@stjohn27

@glittery-koi

@buckysbud

@hettolandija

@lucidasidera

@barnestags

@waverleyrogers

@whoastitchywoman

@duckinatruck

@murkycrush

@thewintersoldier3

@whendidyou-leaveheaven

@faeriecap

@captain-dorito-is-a-snack

@princeofbadassery

@timetopanic34

@16woodsequ

#stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #chris evans #sebastian stan #blog recs #minnie answers

350 notes · View notes

heejamas · 2 days ago

Text

nicest guy: 33. the premiere

word count: 15k words (sorryyyy….againnnn) warnings: MDNI!!!!!! explicit sexual content. petnames, spanking, unprotected sex (dont do it!!!!), softdom! sunghoon, softdom!jake, all the fucking lot. spoiler alert im so sorry…… thank you…… prev | masterlist | next

You’re still adjusting your dress in the mirror when there’s a knock at your door. Three short taps, casual but expectant. You already know who it is. You smooth your hands down the fabric one last time, inhaling deeply before opening the door.

Jake stands there, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, dressed in an all-black suit that fits him almost unfairly well. His hair is styled just enough to look effortless, and the way he’s looking at you, all wide eyes and slow grin, makes your stomach flip.

“Fuck. Wow.” His voice is almost reverent, his gaze dragging over you from head to toe. “You look insane. Like, actually. This should be illegal.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe just to make things difficult for him. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Jake’s grin sharpens, his dimples showing as he leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “I can think of a few things.”

Your heart stutters for a second, but you keep your expression unimpressed. “Yeah? Too bad we have somewhere to be.”

“Five minutes won’t kill anyone,” he argues, slipping past you with ease, closing the door behind him. He barely gives you time to react before his hands find your waist, pulling you in like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His cologne is distracting, all warmth and spice, and his lips are just close enough to be dangerous.

“You’re trouble,” you murmur, your hands finding his shoulders.

“I could say the same about you.”

And then he kisses you, slow and teasing at first, before he deepens it, his fingers pressing into your back like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of you. He tastes like mint and something sweeter, something distinctly Jake, and it’s so easy—too easy—to melt into him.

But you don’t, not fully. You pull back, breathless, pressing a finger to his chest. “Jake.”

“Mm?” His lips chase yours like he’s not done yet.

“We have to go.”

He exhales dramatically, resting his forehead against yours for a second before finally pulling away. “Fine. But only because I don’t want Niki to yell at me for being late.”

The hotel ballroom where the premiere is being held is overwhelming the second you step inside. Warm lighting, sleek decor, champagne flutes in every direction. The kind of event where everyone is too cool to be fazed by the sheer number of celebrities in one place.

Jake keeps a hand on the small of your back as you walk in, like he’s worried you might disappear in the crowd. He greets a few people, nods at some others, but the second he spots Niki, his entire demeanor shifts.

Niki is standing near the center of the room, flanked by Yeonjun and a handful of other people you don’t immediately recognize. He’s holding a drink and talking animatedly, gesturing wildly like he’s in the middle of the most important story of his life. The second he sees you and Jake, his face lights up.

“There you are!” He waves you over, practically bouncing on his heels. “Finally. Thought you guys were gonna ditch me.”

“You think I’d miss this?” Jake grins, clapping a hand on Niki’s shoulder. “Big night, man.”

Niki gestures to the chaos around him. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking insane. I saw Taylor Swift like ten minutes ago and almost passed out.”

You blink. “Wait, she’s actually here?”

“Of course she is, dude. It's her movie.” Niki shrugs. “She's probably somewhere being cooler than all of us combined.”

Jake stands beside you, his hand resting lightly on your back as the party swirls around you. The room is a blur of sequins, designer suits, and industry elites, but his attention is locked on you.

Sunoo arrives first, all bright energy and perfectly styled hair, Gigi right beside him in a dress that probably costs more than your rent. Woonhak follows, looking vaguely overwhelmed but excited. “Oh my God, there he is,” Sunoo gasps dramatically. “The man of the hour.”

Jake laughs. “You mean Niki? Pretty sure he’s the man of the hour.”

“No,” Gigi corrects. “He means you.”

“Yeah,” Sunoo adds, pointing between you and Jake. “We’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

Jake gives you a playful glance. “All good things, I hope?”

Jake, ever the charmer, is unfazed. He chats with them easily, slipping into the conversation like he’s always been part of your world. You watch as he makes them laugh, throwing in casual compliments and effortlessly winning them over.

After a few minutes, you catch sight of Jungwon and Jay arriving. “I’m gonna go say hi to them,” you tell Jake, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods, squeezing your fingers briefly. “Don’t take too long.”

You weave through the crowd toward Jungwon and Jay, both looking effortlessly put together. Jungwon spots you first, his face lighting up. When you reach them, your brother pulls you into a quick hug. “We had a tie problem.” His gaze turns to Jay, who is silently laughing.

You glance toward the bar. “I was actually about to grab a drink. You guys want anything?”

Jay shakes his head. “Sunghoon already went to get ours.”

Of course he did.

You nod, excusing yourself before heading toward the bar. As you approach, you spot Sunghoon leaning against the counter, one hand resting casually on the surface while the other holds a drink. His suit fits perfectly, sharp lines and effortless confidence, the deep navy fabric complementing his complexion in a way that makes your thoughts stray into dangerous territory. The open collar of his dress shirt reveals just enough skin to make you swallow harder than you’d like, and the sleek styling of his hair only sharpens the cocky smirk he wears when he notices you approaching.

“What a coincidence,” he muses, tilting his glass slightly in your direction. “You following me, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, masking the way your pulse quickens. “You wish.”

He tilts his head, letting his gaze drag over you in that slow, deliberate way that makes your skin heat. “Maybe I do.”

Your throat goes dry, but you refuse to let it show. “Shouldn’t you be taking those drinks back to your friends?”

He smirks, swirling the liquid in his glass lazily. “They can wait. Besides, looks like you could use a distraction.”

You scoff, leaning against the bar beside him, trying not to focus on how close he is. “You think you’re that distracting?”

Sunghoon leans in slightly, his voice dropping to that infuriatingly smooth register that always makes the air between you shift. “I know I am.”

You hate that he’s right. But you hate even more how much you don’t want to walk away.

He studies you for a moment before raising a brow. “So, how’s Jake?”

The question catches you off guard, but you recover quickly. “He’s talking to Sunoo, Giselle, and Woonhak.” You pause, then glance at him knowingly. “You know, since he invited you here and all.”

His smirk deepens, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Yeah. Generous of him, don’t you think?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “I like that you two are getting close again.”

Sunghoon hums, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down. Then, he looks at you with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “Of course you like it. You’re the reason for it.” He pauses, tilting his head slightly. “Or did you already forget what happened on Super Bowl night?”

Your breath catches for half a second, but you school your expression, refusing to give him the reaction he wants. Instead, you shift your gaze across the room, scanning the crowd—and that’s when you see Jake.

He’s leaning against a tall table, still engaged in conversation, but his eyes are locked onto you and Sunghoon. There’s something in the way he’s watching, the curve of his lips somewhere between amused and possessive. It sends a shiver down your spine—not quite jealousy, but not entirely something else, either.

The bartender slides your drink in front of you, breaking the tension. You take the glass, turning back to Sunghoon with a tight-lipped smile. “I should get back.”

His smirk lingers, as if he knows exactly why you’re leaving so quickly. “Sure. Wouldn’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.” You ignore the way your stomach tightens at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before you do something reckless.

You return to Jake, finding him standing with Heeseung, Beomgyu, and Soobin near the edge of the party. The three of them are deep in an animated discussion, and you barely get a word in before Beomgyu clutches Soobin’s shoulder like he’s delivering the most important information of the night.

“Dude, I swear to God, we just went to the bathroom and Tom Holland was in there,” Beomgyu says, eyes wide.

Soobin nods in solemn agreement. “He was washing his hands like a normal person. It was surreal.”

“Was he British?” Heeseung asks, raising an eyebrow.

Beomgyu stares at him. “Bro, of course he was British, what kind of question—”

“I mean, did he sound British in real life?” Heeseung clarifies, crossing his arms.

“I didn’t hear him talk. But he had the British stance,” Soobin supplies, as if that explains everything.

“What the hell is a British stance?” Jake finally asks, chuckling.

Beomgyu waves his hand dismissively. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At this point, the conversation takes a sharp turn as Heeseung squints at Soobin. “Okay, but real question—who’s the best Spider-Man? Because I already know your dumbass answer.”

Soobin gasps. “Tobey Maguire is objectively the best—”

“Oh my God, here we go,” Beomgyu groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re actually delusional if you think Andrew Garfield wasn’t the best,” Heeseung counters.

Jake laughs, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you slightly closer as they keep arguing. He leans in, his voice a warm murmur in your ear, “You wanna get out of here?”

Your breath hitches for half a second, but you play it cool, tilting your head slightly. “You’re feeling bold tonight.”

He smirks. “You have that effect on me.”

Before you can respond, Beomgyu suddenly turns back to you both, looking horrified. “Wait—Jake, don’t tell me you think Tom Holland is the best Spider-Man.”

Jake doesn’t even glance at him. “I think Y/N and I are leaving.”

Soobin gasps. “COWARD.”

You laugh, letting Jake steer you toward the exit, ignoring the continued chaos behind you. His hand is firm on your lower back, fingers pressing lightly as he guides you through the crowd, a silent reminder of his presence. The party hums around you—music pulsing, glasses clinking, voices overlapping in an endless sea of conversation—but it all fades into the background as you step into the crisp night air. The smoking area is nearly empty, just a few scattered guests lingering near the edge, their quiet conversations drowned out by the distant bass from inside. The air is laced with the faint scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne, but all you can focus on is Jake, who wastes no time in pulling you closer by the waist.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice smooth and low against your ear. His lips graze the sharp line of your jaw, not quite kissing, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m fine,” you reply, though your breath hitches slightly when he finally presses a kiss there, just below your ear.

“Yeah?” He pulls back just enough to look at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You don’t seem fine.”

You roll your eyes, though it’s half-hearted. “You just like messing with me.”

“Maybe.” His hands tighten around your waist, his thumbs pressing into your sides. “Or maybe I just like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. “Oh yeah? How much?”

Jake tilts his head, pretending to think. “Mm, a lot.” His lips find your jawline again, kissing along it slowly, savoring every inch. “Like, wanna-be-around-you-all-the-time a lot. Like, think-you’re-the-coolest-person-here a lot.”

You hum softly, enjoying the warmth of Jake’s touch, the way his fingers trace absentminded circles against your waist. But there’s something deeper lingering between you, something you can’t ignore.

“Jake,” you say quietly, tilting your head up to look at him properly. “Can I ask you something? Like, for real?”

He pulls back slightly, his gaze warm and steady. “Of course.”

You hesitate for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip before finally speaking. “What… what exactly is this? You and me.”

Jake blinks, as if the question catches him off guard, but then a small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know if I have the perfect answer for that,” he admits. “But I know that I really like getting to know you. I like how things feel when I’m with you. And I don’t wanna push you into anything—you’ve got a lot going on, I get that. But I like where we are right now.” His fingers tighten slightly on your waist, grounding, reassuring. “I like this... whatever this is.”

Your heart stumbles slightly at his words, the sincerity behind them. You nod, letting the moment settle, before shifting slightly. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

Jake grins. “Damn, two in a row? Should I be nervous?”

You roll your eyes but don’t take the bait. Instead, you inhale deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you get mad about Sunghoon? About him being around?”

Jake exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You wanna know the truth?”

“That’d be nice.”

He leans against the railing, still holding onto you like he’s unwilling to let you go. “It’s not the first time this has happened with me and Sunghoon.”

Your brows lift. “Seriously?”

Jake nods. “Yeah. We’ve had this… I don’t know what to call it. This rivalry? Competition? Whatever it is, it’s not new. But it’s never been like this before.”

“Like this how?”

His thumb brushes against your hip, gentle, thoughtful. “It’s never been with someone like you.”

Your breath catches slightly. “What does that mean?”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. “It means you make it different. You make it feel less like a fight and more like— I don’t know. Like a game we don’t mind playing.” He pauses, tilting his head. “And I think it’s because I respect you. I know you’re gonna do whatever you want in the end, and I trust that. And…” He grins, eyes glinting with something playful. “I like it. I like the chase. I like having to work for you.”

Your heart squeezes at his words, warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re really not jealous?”

“Oh, I’m jealous,” he admits, laughing. “But I’m not bitter. Not when it’s you.”

For a second, you can’t think of anything to say. So you don’t. Instead, you reach up, tangling your fingers in the fabric of his jacket and pulling him down into a kiss. Jake reacts instantly, hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, until there’s barely any space left between you. His lips move against yours with an easy certainty, like he’s trying to tell you everything he just said all over again—without words, just the heat of his touch, the press of his body against yours. You feel the way he deepens the kiss, his fingers tightening slightly at your waist, like he wants to make sure you don’t slip away. And you don’t want to.

You let yourself sink into him, your hands gripping the lapels of his jacket, holding him there like he’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment. The world outside the two of you feels distant, a blur of cigarette smoke and the muffled voices. It’s just Jake, his lips warm and insistent against yours, his breath fanning across your cheek as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, as if he wants to taste every inch of you.

Then reality nudges at the back of your mind, and you remember where you are.

You break the kiss, just barely, your breath mingling with his. “Jake,” you murmur, voice slightly unsteady. “We’re still in public.”

His lips barely leave your skin as he hums in response, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “So?”

You huff a quiet laugh, raising an eyebrow. “So, people are watching.”

Jake exhales a soft chuckle, completely unfazed. “Good,” he murmurs, dipping his head lower, his lips brushing against your jaw, then lower, trailing down the column of your neck. His voice is a low, amused whisper against your skin. “I like when people watch.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his jacket. There’s something reckless about the way he says it, something bold, unbothered—like he’s perfectly happy letting the whole world see that you’re his.

You’re about to retort, maybe call him insane, maybe tell him to shut up and keep kissing you, but then—your gaze drifts past his shoulder.

And your stomach twists.

Across the smoking area, near the edge where the neon glow fades into shadows, Sunghoon is standing with some girl. He’s not kissing her, but he’s leaning in way too close, his posture relaxed, effortless—like this isn’t even something he has to think about. Like it’s second nature to him.

She’s smiling, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers as she looks up at him, hanging onto whatever he’s saying. And he’s looking at her the way he looks at anyone he’s about to pull into his orbit—sharp, teasing, eyes glinting with something just shy of a smirk. He’s angled slightly toward her, their bodies just close enough that if she took half a step forward, they’d be chest-to-chest. It’s casual, but you know him well enough to recognize the way his body language shifts when he’s interested in someone.

And then he looks up.

His eyes meet yours, and in an instant, everything sharpens. The noise around you fades, the air between you crackling with something unspoken, something tense. His expression doesn’t change—he doesn’t pull away from the girl, doesn’t step back. He just holds your gaze, steady and unreadable, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Like he’s daring you to react.

Your pulse kicks up, an unfamiliar mix of emotions rising in your chest—something heated, something possessive, something almost irrational. You don’t know if it’s anger, annoyance, or something else entirely, but you feel it curling tight in your stomach.

Jake, still oblivious, is kissing along your neck, lips pressing slow, lingering against your skin. His grip on your waist tightens, his voice low. “You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, trailing another kiss just below your jaw.

But you barely register his words, barely feel the way he’s touching you. Because your attention is locked on Sunghoon, on the way he’s still looking at you, as if waiting to see what you’ll do.

And it makes your blood boil.

The spark of defiance ignites in your chest before the thought even fully forms. You don’t hesitate. If Sunghoon wants to play, you can play too.

Without breaking eye contact with him, you tighten your grip on Jake’s collar and pull him back into a kiss—this time, not soft or teasing, but intense, deliberate. Jake barely has a second to react before he’s melting into you, his hands sliding down your waist, fingers gripping your hips as he presses closer. He exhales a quiet groan against your lips, caught off guard but more than willing to follow your lead.

You tilt your head, deepening it, letting your nails drag lightly against the nape of his neck. The heat between you simmers into something heavier, something heady, and when Jake's fingers dig into your sides in response, you know he's completely lost in it. Good. That’s exactly what you need.

Still, even as you lose yourself in the kiss, you keep your awareness sharp, your senses wired. You know Sunghoon is still watching. And when you finally break the kiss, breathless, you make a point of glancing back toward him.

Your stomach twists the moment you do.

The girl beside him is even closer now, pressing into his side, lips trailing along his jawline like she’s mapping it out with precision. Sunghoon, on the other hand, looks completely unaffected. His expression is unreadable—bored, maybe. Or amused. His arm is lazily slung over the balcony railing, one hand wrapped around his drink, posture relaxed, unbothered. But his eyes?

His eyes are locked onto you.

There’s something deliberate in the way he holds your gaze, something slow and heavy, like he knows exactly what you��re trying to do—and he’s daring you to try harder. It makes your pulse spike, anger bubbling beneath your skin, because he’s playing right back, and worse—he’s good at it.

You refuse to let him win.

Turning back to Jake, you grab his wrist and pull him with you, leading him toward a more secluded corner of the smoking area, tucked behind a concrete wall where the lights don’t quite reach. Jake follows without question, his grip tightening around your hand, his breath uneven from the kiss.

“Where are we going?” he murmurs, voice low, eager.

You don’t answer. Not yet. Not until you steal one last glance over your shoulder, making sure Sunghoon sees exactly what you’re doing.

You don’t wait to see his full reaction, but you catch it anyway—the smirk pulling at Sunghoon’s lips, lazy and knowing, like he’s completely unfazed by your little game. Like he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. It makes your jaw clench.

But you don’t give him the satisfaction of hesitating. You disappear behind the wall with Jake, letting the dim lighting and the thrum of the distant bass swallow you whole.

The second you’re out of sight, Jake tugs you back against him, hands firm on your waist. He’s still catching his breath, his eyes dark with something unreadable—half amusement, half hunger. But there’s something else there too, something smug, something playful.

“You know he’s an asshole, right?” His voice is low, teasing, his fingers dipping just beneath the hem of your dress. “And you know I’m so much better than him.” You open your mouth, but before you can say anything, he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Your stomach flips at the way he says it—not accusing, not jealous, just… taunting. Testing you. And you hate how much you like it.

Your lips curl, fingers sliding up his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “Maybe I just like watching you get all competitive,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly, letting your lips ghost over his jaw. “Maybe I like making you work for it.”

Jake exhales sharply, his grip on you tightening. “Yeah?” His voice drops even lower, and before you can respond, he presses his lips to yours again, harder this time.

The kiss is intense, charged—his hands tugging you closer, his fingers digging into your hips as he backs you against the cool concrete wall. His lips part against yours, and you let him in, let him deepen it, let him take.

His mouth leaves yours only to trail lower, tracing a slow, deliberate path along your jaw, down to your neck. He finds that spot just beneath your ear and lingers there, lips pressing, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make you inhale sharply.

“Still thinking about him?” he murmurs against your skin.

You exhale something between a laugh and a breathy sigh, threading your fingers through his hair. “Not even a little.”

Jake chuckles, satisfied, before dipping lower. His lips trace down your collarbone, hot and open-mouthed, like he wants to leave something behind—some kind of mark, something to remind you who had you here first. His hands explore, one gripping your waist, the other slipping up your back, pressing you flush against him.

Jake’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your waist as he presses you further against the cold wall. His kisses turn rougher, more demanding—teeth grazing your lower lip before he tugs at it, swallowing the quiet gasp that escapes you.

"You like this, don’t you?" he murmurs, his voice dripping with something dark, something teasing. His hand slides up your side, fingers curling around your ribs as his lips travel back to your neck, biting down just enough to make your breath hitch. "Letting me push you around a little?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and when he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown, you know you’ve both lost track of who’s playing who. You don’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, you tilt your head, giving him more access, your fingers tightening in his hair as he licks over the spot he just bit. He chuckles against your skin, satisfied, before sucking a bruise into your collarbone.

A soft moan escapes your lips, barely audible, but Jake catches it. His breath stutters for a split second before he exhales sharply, pressing his hips against yours in response. "Shit," he mutters, dragging his teeth over your pulse. "You can’t be doing that in my ear, princess. That’s not fair."

Before he can say anything else, the buzz of his phone vibrating in his pocket interrupts the moment. He ignores it. You feel it again. A steady vibration, insistent. Jake just groans, mouth still on your skin.

"Jake," you whisper, a little breathless. "It’s your phone."

"Don’t care," he mutters, kissing you again.

You laugh softly, pushing at his chest. "It could be important."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, jaw clenched, clearly annoyed. With a heavy sigh, he digs into his pocket, pulling out his phone. When he sees the caller ID, he groans even louder.

"For fuck’s sake," he mutters before answering. "What?"

You can’t hear what’s being said on the other end, but Jake rolls his eyes. "Bro, are you serious right now? I'm—" He pauses, glancing at you, then sighs again. "Fine. I’ll be there in a sec."

He hangs up and shoves his phone back into his pocket, looking at you with the most put-out expression. "It’s Niki. He’s making a toast or whatever and wants all the guys there."

You snort. "You should go…"

"Yeah." Jake sighs, rubbing a hand down his face before looking at you again. His eyes roam over your slightly disheveled appearance, the faint marks blooming on your collarbone. A smirk tugs at his lips.

You roll your eyes. "I was literally about to fix myself up."

His smirk widens. "Yeah, you better."

You smack his arm, making him laugh. "Shut up," you mutter, turning toward the restroom. "I’ll meet you there."

Jake steps away first, sighing dramatically as he runs a hand through his hair. “Better hurry up, angel,” he teases over his shoulder. “Don’t wanna keep me waiting too long.”

You roll your eyes, watching as he disappears into the crowd before exhaling and smoothing down your outfit. Your body still feels warm, buzzing from everything that just happened, but you shake it off, heading toward a bathroom nearby.

The hallway is quieter here, dimly lit, the noise of the party muffled behind thick walls. You push open the door and step inside, immediately making a beeline for the mirror.

The second you see yourself, you groan, leaning against the counter with both hands. Your lips are swollen, your hair is slightly tousled, and there’s the faintest hint of red blooming on your collarbone where Jake had been particularly eager.

“My god,” you mutter, tilting your head to inspect the damage. You press your fingers over the spot, sighing. “Girl, what the fuck are you doing?”

You shake your head, standing up straighter as you start fixing yourself. Running your fingers through your hair, smoothing out your clothes, fixing your lipstick in an attempt to erase the evidence.

Alright. You’re fine. You take one last breath, steadying yourself.

Then, pushing open the stall door, you step out—

Sunghoon is leaning against the wall right outside the bathroom, arms crossed, waiting.

His eyes meet yours immediately—dark, unreadable. There’s a flicker of something behind them, something almost amused, and then his lips quirk up at the corner.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs.

Your breath catches for a second, your heart still settling from the mess Jake left you in, but you mask it quickly. “Were you waiting for me?” you ask, tilting your head, trying to sound unimpressed.

Sunghoon just shrugs. “Maybe.” You roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the way he’s looking at you—so casual, so at ease, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Having fun tonight?” he asks, voice smooth as ever.

You lift an eyebrow. “You tell me,” you counter. “Looked like you were having a great time with that girl.”

His smirk deepens, just a fraction. “You were watching?”

You scoff, arms crossing over your chest. “You were standing right there. Kinda hard to miss.”

He hums, tilting his head. “So, what? You jealous?”

The accusation makes your stomach twist, but you don’t let it show. You just let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not even a little.”

Sunghoon chuckles, low and deep. “Right,” he drawls.

You hate the way he says it—like he doesn’t believe you, like he knows better. And maybe he does. Maybe he caught the way your gaze lingered too long, how you clenched your jaw when you saw his arm resting lazily on the balcony railing, completely unfazed by your attempts to get a rise out of him.

You straighten your spine. “You must be enjoying yourself, though,” you say, voice laced with something just shy of sarcasm. “Didn’t look like you were complaining when she was all over you.”

Sunghoon just hums again, taking a slow step toward you. “Wouldn’t say that,” he muses.

Another step.

Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’re moving, and Sunghoon is right there, hovering just close enough to make your pulse stutter. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t do anything more than lean in, but it’s enough. Enough to make the space feel smaller, the air heavier.

“She was cute,” he admits, voice dropping slightly. “But I don’t even remember her name.” You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to react. He watches you for a second longer, studying, waiting, and then his lips curve again. “What?” he murmurs. “Disappointed?”

Your eyes narrow. “I should’ve listened when people told me you were trouble.”

Sunghoon tilts his head, feigning curiosity. “Oh? And who told you that?”

You shrug, looking away. “People.”

He hums, like he’s considering it, then dips his head a little lower, just enough to make you look at him again. “Well,” he says, “they’re not wrong.” The words shouldn’t make your stomach flip. But they do. “And you know that,” he continues, voice quieter now. “You’ve always known that.”

You swallow, lips pressing together. Sunghoon’s smirk grows. “And you like it,” he says simply.

Something about the certainty in his voice makes your breath hitch. Like it’s not a question, not even up for debate. Like he knows you too well, has seen the way you react when he talks to you like this, corners you like this. You open your mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to deflect, but he beats you to it.

“You don’t play fair, either,” he murmurs. “That’s why you pulled Jake like that.”

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, you do.” The worst part is that he’s right. And he knows it. The tension stretches between you, thick and charged, but before you can get lost in it completely, something clicks in the back of your mind—Jake.

You blink, straightening slightly. “I have to go.”

Sunghoon doesn’t move, still caging you in. “Back to him?” You nod. He exhales sharply through his nose, a smirk still lingering on his lips. “Of course you do.”

You lift your chin. “Don’t start.”

Sunghoon just lets out a quiet chuckle, finally stepping back, giving you space. “Go ahead,” he says, waving a hand. You roll your eyes, stepping past him, ignoring the way your skin still feels too hot. And as you walk away, you swear you can still hear him laughing.

You make your way back to the party, heart still racing from your conversation with Sunghoon. The music pulses through the air, a mix of laughter and chatter filling the space as you navigate through the crowd.

You spot Jake and Niki at a table surrounded by a group of familiar faces—Heeseung, Beomgyu, Soobin, Woonhak, Jungwon, Jay, Sunoo, Giselle, and Yeonjun. Niki stands up, animatedly gesturing with a drink in hand, clearly in the middle of one of his infamous speeches.

“And let me tell you, folks,” Niki booms, “life is like a pizza! You can have all the toppings in the world, but if the base is soggy, it’s just not gonna work!” The table erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but smile. Niki’s ridiculousness is contagious.

As you reach the table, you lean against it, slipping in beside Jungwon. You rest your head on his shoulder, the comfort of his presence settling your racing thoughts. He glances down at you, an amused glint in his eyes.

Jungwon glances down at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you, Y/N?” he muses, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You blink up at him, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs, nudging you playfully. “You just stroll in here, all casual, after… whatever that was, and expect me to believe you’re only here for the pizza?”

You roll your eyes, the warmth of your earlier encounter with Sunghoon fading slightly in the comfort of your twin’s teasing. “I came for the pizza and Niki’s wisdom, obviously,” you reply, trying to sound serious.

Your brother chuckles, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. You lean into him, the familiar warmth of his embrace making you feel safe and grounded.

But then your gaze drifts away from your brother and settles on Jake, who is seated next to Heeseung, laughter bubbling up between them. He’s animated, his eyes sparkling with joy as he jokes around, completely lost in the moment with his friends. Watching him, a wave of warmth washes over you, spreading from your chest to your fingertips.

In that moment, you can’t help but think how much you genuinely like him. The realization hits you with a gentle tug at your heart. If only you’d met under different circumstances, perhaps things would have been easier. Maybe you could have shared more moments like this, more laughter, and less confusion. The thought lingers in your mind, and you find yourself smiling softly as you wonder what the future might hold. Who knows? Maybe there’s a chance for something more between you two.

As if sensing your gaze, Jake looks over at you, a small smile spreading across his face. It’s the kind of smile that lights up his eyes, a mix of mischief and warmth, as if he knows he wants to be close to you but doesn't want to disrupt the fun he's having with his friends. You feel your cheeks warm at the sight, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

The energy in the room was electric, bodies swaying to the beat, laughter mixing with the music, until Niki broke through the crowd, breathless and wide-eyed. “Heeseung! Jake!” he called out, his excitement palpable. “You’ve got to see this! Whoopi Goldberg is on the dance floor right now!”

The mention of Whoopi had Beomgyu and Soobin leaning in, intrigued. “No way, are you serious?” Beomgyu asked, his expression shifting to one of genuine curiosity. “We have to go check that out.” Soobin nodded vigorously, already stepping forward.

Woonhak leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin on his face. “I actually talked to her earlier. She called me ‘Mr. Kim.’” He delivered the line nonchalantly, but the playful smirk on his face suggested he loved the attention.

Laughter erupted around the group, Jungwon and Jay nearly collapsing with mirth. Even Jake, who typically maintained a cool demeanor, couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Niki seized his arm, pulling him toward the dance floor. “Let’s go, Jake!”

Watching them go, you felt a warmth spread through you. Jake looked so relaxed, so alive, his laughter ringing out amidst the chaos. It was a joy to see him enjoying himself without a care in the world.

“Hey,” Jungwon called, breaking you from your thoughts. “You wanna dance?”

With that, you followed Jungwon onto the dance floor, Jay, Sunoo, and Giselle close behind. The music pulsed around you, each beat vibrating through your chest. You lost yourself in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, letting the music take over.

Then you felt it—a shift in the atmosphere, something unsettling. You turned slightly, and there he was: Sunghoon, sauntering by with another girl, laughter escaping his lips like it was the soundtrack to your annoyance. The sight hit you hard, a surge of frustration bubbling up as you contemplated “accidentally” tripping him.

But no. You weren’t going to let him ruin your night. Not with your friends around, not with the music pumping, and definitely not when Whoopi Goldberg was potentially doing the cha-cha-slide somewhere in this building. You forced a smile, turned back to your friends, and kept dancing, determined to shake off the irritation.

Then, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, Sunghoon’s eyes locked onto yours. For a fleeting moment, everything around you fell silent, the air thick with tension. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but before he could, the girl beside him pulled him back into their conversation.

You turned away, your jaw clenching. The music and laughter felt distant now, as if you were watching the party unfold through a haze. Jungwon noticed the shift in your mood and leaned closer, concern etching his features. “You good?”

You nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But as you moved to the beat, your gaze kept drifting back to Sunghoon, the weight of his presence hanging in the air like a cloud. The night was still young, yet suddenly, it felt a lot heavier.

After dancing for what felt like forever, the weight of your heels became unbearable. You decided it was time for a break. Spotting Sunoo chatting with Giselle, you made your way over. “Hey, I’m going to grab some slippers from my room,” you announced, already starting to walk away.

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. He gave you a knowing look. “Just be careful, because there’s someone watching you all the time.” His tone was teasing, but you knew exactly who he meant—Sunghoon. The unspoken tension between the two of you was palpable, and Sunoo was well aware of it.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to my room anyway,” you replied, already moving away, not bothering to hide your smile.

As you strolled down the dimly lit hallway, the party music faded into a distant buzz, leaving just the thumping of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You could feel Sunghoon’s gaze boring into your back, a familiar presence that sent little shivers down your spine. You could practically picture him brushing off that girl who had been flirting with him just moments before, his signature smirk dismissing her advances like a pro. He had this crazy way of commanding attention, and somehow, you were caught right in the middle of it.

Stopping in front of your door, the cool metal handle felt like a nice break from the heat radiating off your skin. Just as you turned, Sunghoon rounded the corner, the flickering light catching his jawline, making him look almost otherworldly in the shadows. “You know,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, a playful smirk on your lips, “I totally knew you’d pull this. You’re pretty obvious.”

His lips curled into that signature smirk that always sent a jolt through you. He stepped closer, the air between you charged with an electric tension. “And you can’t seem to stay away, can you? It’s like you’re into this little game we’ve got,” he shot back, his tone playful but with a hint of something deeper.

“Oh, is that what this is? A game?” You crossed your arms, trying to hide how giddy you felt inside. The banter flowed easily, but you both knew there was a lot more going on under the surface.

“Definitely,” he leaned in a bit, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of mischief and challenge. “But don’t worry; I’m always down for a challenge. Especially with someone like you.”

Your heart raced at his proximity, a rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You could feel your cheeks heating up, giving away the cool facade you were trying to maintain. “Well, you better keep up then,” you shot back, the words tumbling out with a surprising boldness.

Sunghoon chuckled softly, his amusement clear, but then his expression turned serious for a moment. “Oh, really? Should I?” His voice dropped low, each word hanging in the air, creating a charged intimacy that felt almost electric.

In that instant, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble. The weight of unspoken words hovered between you, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the night was poised on the brink of something monumental. You could see the flicker of emotions dancing in his eyes, a mixture of challenge and desire, and it made your heart skip a beat.

“You know, I’m kinda tired of this back-and-forth game we’ve been playing,” he said, stepping even closer, a serious look crossing his face.

“Oh really? And what do you want, then?” You challenged, the playful banter tinged with curiosity.

“I want you, Y/N,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice sending a thrill down your spine. “Not just this teasing dance.”

The seriousness in his tone made your breath hitch. It felt like a confession, raw and honest, cutting through the playful tension that had defined your interactions until now. You were caught off guard, your heart pounding louder in your ears. You met his gaze, a mix of surprise and something that felt like hope swirling in your chest.

He moved even closer, hovering just inches from you, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath brushed against your skin as he leaned in, almost whispering. “You talk about me being trouble, but let’s be honest—you’re worse than I am.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of thrill and frustration bubbling inside you. “What are you even talking about?” You looked up at him, and the playful glint in his eyes made your heart race.

“Come on,” he teased, tilting his head slightly. He leaned in, brushing his lips just beside your ear, making your breath hitch. “You get jealous at me flirting with other girls, but you can’t expect me to just sit here while you fuck with Jake, either. It’s a two-way street, you know?”

He pulled back slightly, looking deep into your eyes, searching for a reaction. You felt a surge of irritation mix with a strange thrill at his words, his expression teasing yet sincere. “Fine,” you huffed, frustration bubbling to the surface. But the truth was, you wanted to fight against it, to challenge him. “Maybe I don’t want to keep playing games too.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” He stepped back, that playful glint returning to his eyes. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze pressing on you, and for a moment, all the teasing, all the games, melted away. “I want you to stop messing with my head and just be honest with me.”

Sunghoon’s expression softened slightly, and for a brief moment, the playful banter gave way to something deeper. “Alright, I can do that. I want you. No games.”

You felt your heart race at his admission, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. “Okay,” you replied, your voice steady but laced with a hint of vulnerability. “No games.”

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, a challenge flickering in his eyes. “But even now, you’re still not making the first move, are you?”

You held his gaze, unflinching. The air was thick with tension, and the silence stretched between you, charged with anticipation. You didn’t want to be the first to break; instead, you leaned into the moment, your heart pounding as you locked your eyes onto his.

Instead of waiting for him to lean in, you took a step back, slowly opening your door and entering your room, all while keeping your eyes fixed on him. You moved in reverse, your gaze never leaving his, a playful yet inviting challenge dancing in your expression. The door creaked slightly as you stepped inside, the space now feeling intimate and charged.

Sunghoon followed you inside, his gaze intense as he stepped through the threshold. He closed the door behind him with a firm thud, the sound echoing in the small room, sealing you both in a world of your own. You could feel the heat radiating off him as he advanced, the atmosphere thick with unspoken desires.

You walked backward until the back of your knees met the edge of your bed, the soft mattress providing a stark contrast to the tension in the air. You felt the gentle push as you sat down, your eyes never leaving his. Sunghoon remained standing, towering over you, a smirk still playing on his lips.

Sunghoon stepped closer, his expression shifting to one of determination. “So, you think you can just tease me like this?” His voice dropped an octave, filled with a rough edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You held his gaze, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “I’m not scared of you,” you replied, trying to sound bold, but the way he looked at you made it hard to maintain your composure.

He smirked, a confident glint in his eyes. “Good, because I’m not playing games anymore.” With that, he took a step back, deliberately creating a bit of distance. You watched, curious, as he slowly removed his blazer, revealing a fitted shirt that clung to his frame. He left a few buttons undone, exposing just enough of his chest to make your heart race.

The sight of him, so effortlessly confident and attractive, made your breath hitch. You leaned back on your hands, your heart pounding as you assessed him, unable to look away. The playful banter had evaporated, leaving only a charged atmosphere between you.

“See something you like?” he teased, his voice low and taunting. The intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, making it hard to think straight.

“Maybe,” you replied, a hint of challenge in your tone, even as your body betrayed you, leaning slightly back, inviting him to close the distance.

Sunghoon stepped forward again, this time his presence more dominant, almost predatory. “You have no idea what you’re asking for, do you?” He leaned closer, making your heart race even faster. Standing before you, he towered over you, a commanding figure that filled the space with undeniable energy.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your chin, lifting it gently to meet his gaze. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt both vulnerable and exhilarated under his touch. “Look at me,” he urged softly, his eyes locked onto yours, a mix of intensity and something deeper swirling within them.

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of the moment, your heart pounding as he carefully maintained the connection. There was an undeniable tension in the air, charged with desire and anticipation.

“I want you to understand just how much I want this,” he murmured, his thumb stroking your chin lightly, sending electric sparks through you. It was a simple gesture, yet it felt like an invitation into something thrilling and unknown.

“I think I can say I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, heart racing as you laid your feelings bare.

“Oh, really?” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes, his lips curling into a smirk that sent butterflies swirling in your stomach. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly sank to his knees in front of you, a powerful move that made your breath hitch.

As he knelt, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in this charged atmosphere. He leaned in closer, his gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached for your sandal, fingers brushing against your ankle as he began to slip it off.

You felt a rush of heat wash over you, the intimate gesture sending your mind into a whirl. You wanted to say something, to break the thick silence, but the way he looked at you left you momentarily speechless. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, a stark contrast to the fiery desire building between you.

With deliberate slowness, he moved to your second sandal, his fingers brushing your skin as he slipped it off. His gaze never faltered, locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The world outside your room faded, and it felt like just the two of you existed in this electrifying moment.

As he slipped it off your foot, he leaned in closer, lifting your leg gently. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pressed a soft kiss to your ankle, his lips warm against your skin. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine, and you could barely contain the gasp that escaped your lips.

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, his smirk widening as he caught sight of the goosebumps that had formed along your leg. “Did that feel good?” he teased, his voice low and filled with mischief.

You could only nod, overwhelmed by the mix of sensations coursing through you. The way he was looking at you, combined with his gentle touch, was driving you wild. He leaned back in, his lips brushing against your skin once more, trailing slow, deliberate kisses up the length of your calf, his touch featherlight yet searing against your skin. Each press of his mouth sent another wave of heat rolling through you, making it harder to focus on anything but the way he was worshipping you with every movement. When he reached your knee, he lingered, his breath hot against the sensitive skin there, before placing a final, lingering kiss just above it.

Then, he stopped. He straightened to his full height, towering over you once more, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. He looked at you like he was taking in every detail, every reaction, every silent plea hidden behind your parted lips.

“Stand up,” he murmured, his voice smooth but firm.

You hesitated for only a second before obeying, your body moving before your mind could catch up. As you rose to your feet, the space between you crackled with tension, the air thick with anticipation. Sunghoon stepped behind you, his presence overwhelming without even touching you. The warmth of his body was right there, just close enough to make your skin tingle, just far enough to make you ache for more.

“Turn around,” he instructed, and you felt the heat in his voice as you complied, slowly pivoting until your back was to him.

You held your breath, heart hammering in your chest as you felt his fingers brush over your shoulder, grazing the strap of your dress. He didn’t rush—no, he was taking his time, savoring every second. You could feel his breath ghosting over the nape of your neck, the sensation sending a delicious shudder through you.

His fingers trailed down the length of your spine, following the fabric of your dress as he reached for the zipper. But before he pulled it down, he leaned in closer, his lips just barely brushing against the shell of your ear.

Sunghoon’s breath was warm against your ear, the tension between you thick enough to drown in. His fingers toyed with the zipper of your dress for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing over your skin as he spoke, voice low and dripping with amusement.

“Can I?” he murmured, his tone edged with something dark, something hungry, and you nodded.

And then, with a swift, decisive motion, he dragged the zipper down, the sound slicing through the silence. Your dress loosened instantly, slipping off your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet like it had simply given up under his touch.

Sunghoon took a small step back, just enough to take you in. His gaze darkened as it roamed over you, lingering on the deep blue lingerie that now stood between him and everything he wanted. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and his smirk deepened.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, almost to himself. “Did you wear this for me?”

Before you could answer, he was already moving, his lips pressing against your bare shoulder, slow and deliberate, like he was marking his territory. His hands traced the curves of your waist before gripping your hips, pulling you back against him so you could feel exactly how much he wanted you.

“You like teasing me, don’t you?” he mused between kisses, his mouth trailing up the side of your neck, making you shudder. “Wearing something like this, knowing I’d see it.” His teeth grazed your skin, and you gasped, your body instinctively pressing closer. Sunghoon chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “I think you like being caught.”

His hands slid over your stomach before he turned you around in one fluid motion. The second your eyes met his, you reached for the buttons of his shirt, fingers working quickly, desperate to even the playing field. But you barely made it to the middle of his torso before Sunghoon caught your wrists, halting your movements.

His gaze was sharp, his smirk downright sinful. “Did I say you could take my shirt off?” he asked, tilting his head. “Good girls ask first.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, all you could do was stare at him, heart pounding, lips parting in surprise.

The moment stretched between you for a beat—then, before you could react, Sunghoon pushed you back onto the bed. You barely had time to process the way your body sank into the mattress before he was over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you open beneath him.

His smirk was gone now. What replaced it was something darker, something dangerously close to pure need.

“Now,” he murmured, eyes locked onto yours. “Let’s see if you can be good for me after all.”

Sunghoon hovered over you, his body pressing into yours, his breath fanning against your lips, but still—still—he hadn’t kissed you yet. His eyes burned into yours, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your thigh, teasing, withholding, making you squirm beneath him.

You were done waiting. You reached up, fingers threading through his hair, tugging him down—but before your lips could meet, he let out a quiet chuckle, his mouth barely ghosting over yours.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, with knowing.

You didn’t get a chance to respond, because in the next second, his lips finally crashed against yours, swallowing the air from your lungs. The kiss was nothing short of devastating.

His mouth moved against yours with an urgency that left you dizzy, like he’d been starving for this as much as you had. He didn’t hold back—he kissed you deep, kissed you like he wanted to ruin you, his hands tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back, demanding more, taking more.

You melted into him, nails digging into his back as his tongue slid against yours, slow and deliberate at first, then more intense, more desperate. His teeth grazed your lower lip before he sucked it between his own, drawing a soft whimper from you. That sound only seemed to spur him on.

His hands roamed lower, gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, like he was trying to fuse you together. The weight of him, the way he pressed into you with every shift of his body, had your head spinning.

Your fingers found their way to his shirt again, fumbling with the buttons, desperate to get it off, to feel his skin against yours. But just as you started to undo another one, Sunghoon suddenly grabbed your wrists, stopping you in your tracks.

His lips were swollen, his breathing uneven, but his voice was firm as he said, “What did I just say?”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “What?”

“I told you to ask first.” His voice dropped lower, more authoritative. His grip on your wrists tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you feel it.

Heat flooded through you, your breath catching at the way he looked at you—so in control, so effortlessly dominant. Still, you couldn’t help the whiny edge that crept into your voice. “But I—”

“Don’t start,” he cut you off, his tone sharp. His fingers traced down your arm, featherlight, sending a shiver through you. “You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat hammering in your ears. His words, his tone—it had you falling silent, something deep inside you tightening in response. Sunghoon’s smirk deepened, like he could see the exact moment you surrendered to him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, then leaned down, his lips crashing into yours again. This time, it was even more intense.

His kiss was all-consuming, leaving no space for hesitation. He devoured you, his tongue sliding against yours, slow but deliberate, like he was savoring every second. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into your waist, your hips, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Then, suddenly, he pulled back. Still straddling you, Sunghoon shifted, moving up onto his knees. His hands went to the buttons of his shirt, and your breath caught as you watched him slowly undo them one by one. You lifted yourself slightly, propping up on your elbows, eyes locked onto him, completely transfixed. The way his fingers moved, the slow reveal of his toned chest—it was hypnotizing, addictive.

He caught you staring, smirking. You swallowed, your cheeks burning, but you didn’t look away. Then he paused, his fingers still on the last few buttons. His gaze met yours, dark and unreadable. “Ask.”

Your lips parted slightly, your breath shaky as you whispered, “Can I touch you, Hoon?”

For a second, he just stared at you, like he was drinking in the way you looked—needy, desperate, completely at his mercy. Then, finally, he gave a small nod. You wasted no time. Your hands reached out, fingers sliding against his skin as you slowly pushed his shirt open. Your touch was soft, reverent, tracing over his chest, his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips.

You leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest as you worked on the last of the buttons, your lips trailing down the hard planes of his body, tasting him, feeling every flex of his muscles under your touch. The shirt slipped off his shoulders, falling to the bed, forgotten.

Your hands moved lower, gliding over his abs, down to the waistband of his pants. Your breath hitched as you hesitated there, glancing up at him, waiting, asking without words. His eyes darkened. Without a word, he reached down, fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, slow, teasing.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, with something deeper. His thumb pressed just slightly against your lip, feeling the way it parted under his touch. “So obedient.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard, your entire body buzzing under his touch. Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, still toying with your bottom lip beneath his thumb. “Tell me what you want.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Your face felt like it was on fire, but you forced the words out, even if your voice came out softer than you intended. “I want you.”

Something dark flashed in his gaze, his smirk widening as if he’d been waiting to hear that. He straightened up, stepping back slightly until he was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you.

“Then be a good girl and get on your knees for me.”

A fresh wave of heat surged through you at his words. You shifted, moving carefully until you were kneeling at the edge of the bed, looking up at him, heart racing in anticipation.

Sunghoon’s smirk never faltered. He let you settle into position before speaking again. “Take them off.” Your hands moved almost on their own, reaching for his belt, fingers fumbling slightly from the sheer tension in the air. You undid the buckle, the soft clinking sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. The button came next, then the zipper, your fingertips grazing the warm skin of his lower abdomen as you tugged the fabric down.

You took your time, dragging his pants down inch by inch, your fingers brushing against the firm muscles of his thighs, your breath coming out uneven as more of him was revealed to you. The air between you felt heavy, thick with anticipation, as the fabric slipped lower, pooling around his ankles.

Now, he was standing over you in nothing but his boxers, the outline of him straining against the fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. Your mouth went dry. Heat coiled low in your stomach, an intoxicating mix of arousal and the sheer intensity of the moment.

Sunghoon let out a low chuckle at your expression, dark amusement dancing in his eyes. He reached down, his fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong, baby?” His voice was a slow, teasing drawl, dripping with amusement, with control.

You weren’t sure if it was his tone, the way he looked at you, or the fact that you could feel his heat, inches away from your lips, but you felt dizzy. Your breath shuddered as you leaned in, your lips hovering just over the hard outline beneath his boxers, your eyes flicking up to meet his again, filled with nothing but quiet submission.

Sunghoon hummed, his smirk deepening. “Uh-uh.” His fingers traced along the side of your face before sliding into your hair, gripping it lightly. “You have to ask first, baby.”

Your stomach clenched. The grip in your hair wasn’t tight, but it was firm enough to remind you who was in charge. Your lips parted, voice coming out softer than you intended. “Please, Hoon…”

His expression remained unchanged, feigning innocence. “Please what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering as you tilted your head, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss against his lower abdomen. His scent overwhelmed you, making you lightheaded. Your hands lifted to his hips, playing with the hem of his boxers, teasing the waistband between your fingers. “Let me take these off.”

Sunghoon inhaled slowly through his nose, looking down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. The hand in your hair tightened slightly, tilting your head back further. “Say please.”

You exhaled shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

Something flickered in his gaze—satisfaction, control. It was a look that sent another wave of heat rushing through you, making your entire body feel hyperaware of the moment. The way he loomed over you, his chest rising and falling steadily, the grip he still had in your hair—it all made you feel small in the best possible way. Then, his smirk returned, slow and knowing, his head tilting just slightly as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip, pressing down lightly, testing you. “Go ahead, baby.”

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, and you took your time, dragging the fabric down slowly, purposefully, letting your nails graze against his hips as you went. As soon as he was bare, your breath hitched. You felt lightheaded with anticipation, the heat pooling low in your stomach tightening at the sight of him, already so hard for you. Sunghoon was big.

Your lips parted, a quiet, shaky breath escaping as you immediately leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the base of his cock. His grip in your hair tightened, his chest rising with a sharp inhale as you trailed your lips up his length, your tongue tracing the prominent vein that ran along the side.

“Fuck.” His voice came out low, wrecked, his head tipping back just slightly before his gaze returned to you, dark and heavy-lidded.

You took your time, your tongue teasing him with deliberate, languid licks, savoring the weight of him, the warmth of his skin against your mouth. Sunghoon’s breathing grew heavier, his fingers tightening in your hair as he guided you subtly, his hips barely shifting forward, making you gasp.

“Just like that, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “So fucking good.”

The praise only fueled you, made you more eager, more desperate to please. You wrapped your lips around him, taking him in slowly, inch by inch, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked. His reaction was immediate—a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching, his grip tightening just enough to make you whimper.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his thumb tracing your lower lip again when you pulled back slightly, your lips slick and swollen. “So fucking eager, huh?”

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow, uneven pants, your pupils blown wide as you looked up at him, your lips slick and swollen. He shook his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as his fingers tightened in your hair, guiding you back down. You leaned in again, parting your lips and taking him in, slow and deliberate at first, before hollowing your cheeks and sucking, letting your tongue drag along the underside of his cock, feeling the way he pulsed under your touch. His breathing hitched, a quiet curse slipping from his lips as his hand flexed in your hair.

“Fuck, just like that,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “You take me so well, baby. Such a good fucking girl.”

The praise only made you more eager, made you want to pull more sounds from him, made you want to push him further. Your hands gripped at his thighs as you moved, setting a steady pace, swallowing around him, letting out soft little moans that you knew would drive him insane. His hips twitched, just barely holding himself back from thrusting into your mouth.

Then, suddenly, his grip in your hair tightened sharply, pulling you back with a swift, firm motion. Your lips slipped from his cock with a soft, wet pop, and you blinked up at him, dazed, your mind foggy with the haze of arousal. Confusion flickered in your expression, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you searched his face, but he only smirked at you, his gaze dark and heavy-lidded.

Without a word, he let go of your hair and moved, shifting back onto the bed, sitting against the headboard, his legs spread lazily apart like he had all the time in the world. He propped an arm behind his head, watching you with an almost lazy amusement, like he was enjoying every second of making you wait.

Then, his voice cut through the thick silence. “Take those off for me.”

Your stomach clenched at his tone—low, commanding, expectant. You swallowed, nodding as you slowly got to your feet, standing at the edge of the bed as you reached for the straps of your bra.

Sunghoon’s gaze never left you, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he watched, his dark eyes flickering with anticipation. You dragged the straps down your shoulders, letting the fabric slip down inch by inch, revealing your bare chest. His smirk widened as he caught sight of it, his eyes darkening, his fingers flexing against his thigh. You let your underwear pool at your feet, and you could feel the hunger in his expression, the way his fingers twitched like he was resisting the urge to reach out and grab you.

Then, he tilted his head, patting his thigh once, his voice smooth, teasing. “Come here, pretty.”

Your breath hitched, your skin prickling with anticipation as you moved towards him, crawling onto the bed, your movements slow and deliberate, almost feline, like you were savoring every second of this.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice nothing but smooth approval. “So fucking pretty for me.”

The moment you were close enough, his hands found your waist, his grip firm, possessive—grounding you even as the rest of your body buzzed with anticipation. You hovered over him, your palms pressed against his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. His fingers dragged along your sides, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every inch of you to memory, like he had no intention of rushing this.

And then he saw it. A darkened mark blooming against your collarbone, the unmistakable imprint of lips and teeth that weren’t his.

Sunghoon stilled, his smirk curling at the edges as his fingers ghosted over the bruise. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I knew he was going to mark you…” His voice was soft, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something darker, something claiming.

Before you could respond, his lips were on you, tracing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. He took his time, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot before sinking his teeth in just enough to make you shudder.

“And I knew you were gonna let him,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with amusement. His lips moved higher, grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “You can’t control yourself, can you?”

A sharp smack landed on your ass before you could process his words. You gasped, the sting spreading deliciously through your skin, and your eyes shot to him in shock, only to find him already watching you, biting down a smirk. He tilted his head slightly, gaze dark, knowing. “You like that, huh?” His fingers kneaded at the spot, soothing the burn even as his smirk grew.

Your breath hitched, the heat in your stomach curling even tighter. You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Sunghoon let out a soft, breathy laugh, his hand squeezing your waist, grounding you as he pulled you closer. “I knew you were dirty like this.”

And then his lips were on you again, but this time, lower. He kissed down the valley between your breasts, slow and teasing, his tongue darting out to taste your skin before he bit down gently, sucking another mark into your flesh. His hands smoothed over your thighs, squeezing, gripping, before sliding up to cup your chest, his thumbs brushing over your already hardened nipples.

He took his time with you, savoring every reaction, every little gasp, every arch of your body against him. It was intoxicating, the way he could pull sounds from you with just his mouth, just his hands. You whimpered as he dragged his tongue over your sensitive skin, your hips involuntarily rolling against his stomach, seeking friction, seeking anything.

His grip on your hips tightened instantly, stilling your movements. “Behave,” he said, his voice low, commanding, a warning.

A thrill shot through you at his tone, at the weight of his control, but you weren’t ready to submit just yet. You met his gaze, tilting your head slightly, feigning innocence. “Or what?”

His smirk widened, slow, almost lazy, like he was waiting for you to say that. Like he’d been hoping you would. “Oh, sweetheart…” His fingers dug into your skin, his voice dropping into something deeper, darker, full of promise. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Before you could process, he moved. A sharp gasp left your lips as Sunghoon flipped you onto the mattress in one swift, effortless motion, pinning your body beneath him. His hands were on you immediately—strong, commanding, securing your wrists above your head with ease. His grip was firm, his body caging you in, leaving you completely at his mercy.

Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as you stared up at him, wide-eyed, your skin burning everywhere he touched. His gaze was dark, filled with something primal, something almost dangerous. And then he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the lightest of touches before he bit down on your lower lip, sharp enough to make you whimper.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath fanning over your lips. “What do you want?” His voice was deep, teasing, dripping with control.

Your body arched instinctively, your thighs squeezing together in desperate search of relief, but you couldn’t move—not with the way he had you pinned so effortlessly beneath him. A whimper escaped you, but no words followed. Sunghoon smirked.

His grip on your wrists shifted, securing them in one hand, while his free hand trailed down your jaw, his fingers gripping your chin with just enough force to make you shiver. He tilted your face up, forcing you to meet his eyes, his thumb brushing slowly over your parted lips.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

Your breath hitched, your body writhing under him, and when you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper. “Fuck me, Sunghoon.”

He hummed, tilting his head, pretending to think. “Didn’t quite hear you, baby.” His hips lowered, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance, teasing, taunting, making you gasp. Your entire body trembled beneath him, the ache inside you growing unbearable.

A frustrated whine left your lips, your voice turning desperate, pleading. “I want you to fuck me, Sunghoon.”

He let out a dark, satisfied chuckle. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Before you could take another breath, his hand was between your legs, fingers gliding through your wetness, spreading you open. The teasing circles he drew over your clit made your thighs shake, your body twitching at every deliberate, calculated movement.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His fingers pressed down harder, rubbing slow, languid strokes that sent shocks of pleasure straight to your core. “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

You whimpered, your back arching against his touch. “Don’t tease me, please… I need you.”

Sunghoon smirked against your skin, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear before he murmured, “I need to prep you first.” His fingers dipped lower, sliding between your folds, teasing at your entrance. “Don’t want to hurt my pretty girl.” His voice was soft, almost affectionate. He lets go of your wrists, and you hold on to his arms.

His fingers slipped inside you with ease, stretching you open, filling you in a way that had your back arching off the mattress. A choked moan escaped your lips, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you as Sunghoon worked you open, his movements slow at first—teasing, purposeful.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, watching your face closely, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So fucking good for me.”

His fingers moved faster, deeper, the lewd sounds of your wetness filling the room, only fueling the fire in his darkened gaze. Your thighs trembled, your body tightening around him, the pressure in your stomach coiling impossibly tight. He could feel it—how close you were. And he wanted to push you over that edge.

“Tell me…” His voice was low, almost a growl, as his fingers pumped into you with merciless precision. “Did he treat you nice like this?”

Your mind was hazy, the pleasure consuming you whole. You couldn’t even form words, couldn’t respond—all you could do was moan, your nails digging into his forearm as his pace quickened.

Sunghoon clicked his tongue, shaking his head with mock disapproval. “Can’t answer me?” His free hand came up, gripping your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. His thumb dragged along your swollen lips, smearing the drool that had gathered there. “You’re so fucking eager, aren’t you? Wanting two cocks at the same time… so greedy.”

His words sent a new wave of heat through your body, shame and arousal intertwining in a way that made you squirm beneath him. “But I’m gonna ruin you for every other man,” he murmured darkly, leaning down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You hear me?”

The coil inside you snapped, your orgasm crashing over you so intensely that you couldn’t do anything but cry out his name, your thighs trembling, your body convulsing beneath him as you unraveled onto his fingers.

Sunghoon groaned, watching you fall apart with hooded eyes, completely mesmerized. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from your soaked heat, bringing them up to his lips before slipping them into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them, savoring the taste of you.

“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire.

You barely had time to recover, your body still trembling in the aftershocks, before he was positioning himself in front of you, his cock in hand, the tip already leaking against your entrance.

He looked at you then—really looked at you. Your eyes were dazed, pupils blown wide, lips parted as you gazed up at him with a look that made his breath hitch.

“Are you okay?” His voice was softer now, a hint of something almost tender behind the rough dominance he exuded. You nodded quickly, biting your lip, anticipation swirling in your stomach as you ached to feel him inside you. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he murmured, stroking your thigh, his restraint evident in the tension in his muscles.

Sunghoon was big, and the mere thought of him stretching you open made you whimper. You looked up at him with wide, needy eyes, an innocent expression that only fueled the hunger in his gaze. His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around your thigh.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging the tip of his cock over your clit, rolling it in slow circles, making your body twitch beneath him. “You’re so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?” You could only nod, your breath hitching, your body strung so tight that you thought you might go insane if he didn’t fill you soon.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmured, his voice slightly strained, as if he was holding himself back. You nodded again, appreciating the gentleness beneath his roughness, the way he still cared even while acting completely in control.

And then, finally, he pushed in—the thick head of his cock stretching you open, sinking into you inch by inch. Your body clenched around him, the feeling overwhelming, pleasure spreading through you like fire.

Your eyes rolled back, a moan slipping past your lips as you let your head fall completely against the bed, your hands gripping onto his strong biceps, needing something to ground you.

Sunghoon groaned lowly, watching the way your body took him, the way you squeezed around him so perfectly. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice strained, his control hanging by a thread. “You feel so fucking tight.”

His grip on your thigh was possessive, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he slowly pushed inside you, stretching you open inch by inch. The slow, deliberate pace was maddening, the tease unbearable, but he seemed to revel in it—watching the way your body reacted to him, the way your lips parted in breathless moans, the way your fingers clawed at his biceps, desperate for more.

Your forehead pressed against his, both of you breathing heavily, lost in the intoxicating heat of each other’s touch. The room felt electric, the air thick with tension, every sound amplified—the slick slide of him moving inside you, the breathy whimpers escaping your lips, the deep, guttural moans he let out every time your walls clenched around him.

His hold tightened, fingers bruising as he gripped the back of your thigh, spreading you wider for him, as if he wanted to claim every inch of you. His lips ghosted over yours, teasing, never quite kissing you, just breathing you in, his warm breath fanning over your flushed skin.

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?” His voice was a dark whisper against your lips. You could only nod, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Say it.” His hips rolled forward, a deep thrust that had your eyes rolling back, your nails scratching down his toned back.

“I—” You gasped, barely able to form words. “I wanted this so bad.”

Sunghoon groaned, his self-control slipping as he pulled back slightly before snapping his hips forward again, burying himself deeper inside you. The stretch burned in the best way possible, a delicious ache that made your head spin. He was so big, filling you to the brim, making you feel completely owned, completely his.

His pace was still torturously slow, but each thrust was deep, deliberate, making you feel every inch of him. He watched your face intently, taking in every reaction, every twitch of your brows, every gasp and moan that tumbled from your lips.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his hand trailing up your body, fingers wrapping around your throat, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. “So fucking desperate.” You whimpered, your hands flying up to grasp at his wrist, not to pull him away but to hold onto him, to ground yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

His thumb dragged over your lower lip, pressing against the soft flesh before slipping into your mouth. “Suck.” You obeyed without thinking, lips wrapping around his thumb, tongue swirling over the pad of it as you gazed up at him with glassy eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, his restraint snapping.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, replacing it with his lips as he kissed you with a hunger that left you breathless. His pace quickened, hips slamming into yours with a force that made the bed creak beneath you.

The shift in tempo had you gasping, whimpering against his mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him in deeper. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the rhythmic, wet sounds of him fucking into you, mixed with your broken moans and his deep, raspy groans.

“You take me so fucking well,” he praised, his lips dragging down your jaw, to the curve of your neck, where he sucked and nipped, leaving his mark. “My good girl. So tight. So perfect.”

Your body arched into him, every nerve ending ignited, your head spinning with pleasure. You could feel it building again—that familiar, fiery coil in your stomach, tightening with every thrust, with every filthy word he whispered into your ear.

“Sunghoon—” You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “I’m—” He groaned, sensing exactly how close you were.

“Not yet,” he growled, pulling out almost completely before slamming back inside you, his pace relentless now, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you trembling. “You’re gonna cum when I say you can, baby.”

You whined, body betraying you, your walls fluttering around him, your muscles locking up as you teetered on the edge of oblivion. “Hold it.” His voice was dark, commanding, but his own resolve was slipping. He was close too, his thrusts growing erratic, deeper, harder.

You couldn’t. You physically couldn’t. Your body was on fire, your mind blank, pleasure consuming you whole. “Sunghoon, please,” you sobbed, shaking beneath him.

His hand wrapped around your throat again, squeezing just enough to send you spiraling, his voice a breathy groan as he finally gave you permission.

“Cum for me.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, so intense it stole the breath from your lungs, your vision blurring as your body convulsed beneath him. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing, milking him for everything he had.

“Fuck—” Sunghoon groaned, his movements growing sloppy, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release hitting him like a freight train. His body tensed, his cock throbbing as he spilled inside you, filling you with warmth, his breath ragged against your ear.

The room was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing, both of you completely spent, bodies tangled together in the sheets. Sunghoon pressed lazy kisses to your jaw, your collarbone, your lips, his touch softer now, almost gentle.

Your body felt weightless, as if you were floating in the haze of pleasure that still clung to you, leaving you warm and blissfully dazed. Your limbs were heavy, spent, but his touch—gentle, soothing—kept you tethered to reality.

“You okay?” Sunghoon murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, but still laced with concern. His fingers found your face, brushing away the damp strands of hair sticking to your forehead. His eyes, still dark with the remnants of desire, softened when they met yours.

You nodded weakly, your body still buzzing, your mind slow to catch up. He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, slow and tender, as if savoring the taste of you, before rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. Your body draped over his chest, his warmth seeping into you, anchoring you in a way that made you want to stay like this forever.

His fingers traced absentminded patterns along the bare skin of your back—slow, lazy circles, up and down your spine, making you shiver despite the heat radiating from his body. His other hand, rough yet careful, brushed over your arm, then your waist, like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you, like he needed to remind himself that you were still there, tangled up with him in the sheets.

A deep sigh left his lips, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you, the rhythm soothing, hypnotic. You pressed your cheek against his heart, listening to the soft thump, feeling the way it still raced slightly, evidence of how much he had wanted you, how much you had affected him.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was full, heavy with unspoken words, but not in a way that begged for answers. It was enough just to be here, wrapped up in each other, breathing the same air, feeling the same warmth.

Then, after a moment, his hand came up to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair, massaging your scalp in slow, rhythmic motions. A small hum of pleasure escaped you at the comforting sensation, making him chuckle under his breath.

“Feels good?” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. You nodded again, too content to form words.

He shifted slightly, adjusting so that you were more securely nestled against him, his grip tightening as if he were afraid you might slip away. “I like this,” he admitted, voice quieter now, more raw. “Having you like this. Feels… different.”

You lifted your head slightly, just enough to look at him, your fingers trailing over his collarbone, tracing the defined lines of his chest. “Different how?”

His eyes flickered down to you, something unreadable swirling in them. His thumb stroked the curve of your hip, his lips parting slightly before he hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, he muttered, “I don’t know. Just… good.”

Your heart clenched at the way he said it—so unguarded, so unlike the teasing, cocky Sunghoon you were used to. This was different. This was intimacy in its purest form, something unspoken lingering between the two of you, too fragile to name, but too strong to ignore. You pushed yourself up slightly, just enough to hover over him, your fingers still lazily tracing along his chest. “You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered. “I get it.”

His gaze searched yours for a moment before he exhaled, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He reached up, brushing his knuckles against your cheek before guiding your lips back down to his. This kiss was different from before—no urgency, no hunger, just something soft, something deeper. He kissed you like he was trying to memorize you, like he wanted to leave a piece of himself behind in every press of his lips against yours.

You melted into him, sighing into the kiss, your hands coming up to frame his face, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you even closer. He kissed you slowly, taking his time, as if you had all the time in the world.

When he finally pulled away, his lips lingered against yours, his breath warm as he murmured, “Next time…” You swallowed, waiting, your body already shivering at the thought of what he might say next. “…I’m not letting you off so easy.” His voice was teasing, but the promise behind it sent a thrill down your spine.

You bit your lip, a lazy smile playing on your lips before leaning in to press a soft kiss against the sharp line of his jaw. “I think I’d like that,” you whispered, the tease in your voice making Sunghoon let out a low, satisfied chuckle.

Without a word, he pulled you in closer, rolling onto his side until your back was flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist with a possessive kind of ease. His hand smoothed over your stomach, fingertips tracing light patterns against your skin, grounding himself in the warmth of you.

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, and for a second, he just held you there—basking in the way you fit so perfectly against him. The thought crossed his mind, unbidden, that he liked having you like this, wrapped up in him, safe in his arms.

But he’d never admit that.

prev | masterlist | next

author's note: SOOOOO.... LMAOOOOO READER IS THIS YOU RN?????

my best friend read this chapter and absolutely lost her mind so i’m taking that as a good sign LMAO also sorry for the length, i know it’s longer than usual but hopefully it’s worth it 👀

this is only the second smut scene i’ve ever written and i can’t believe it actually turned out good??? like hello since when do i have this talent i’m actually shook. anyway, i’m gonna take a little longer than usual to post the next update, so savor this one while you can 😌 BYEEEEE

taglist: @jayparked @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate @kixri @soobnuuy @dreamiestay @somuchdard @nyyoryyu @atinyrosedoor @enhaverse713586 @miszes @wildtigerlili @hoonkishoe @wilonevys @m1dn1ghtv1olet @who-tf-soddhi @ilovewonyo @nickiminajleftasscheek @ikeulove @payformycoffeeandleave @jvngw0nlvr @qtke @nikirangs @rairaiblog @tinyteezer @catecita @aespaqq @cyberstephzz @jakesimfromstatefarm @maniluvzyou @stormy1408 @missychief1404 @heevrs @shuichi-sama @enhastars @immelissaaa @pjselee @hexnoia @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @love-4-keum @doublebunv @minfolio @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @doveblackboat @psychotic-girl-666 @kukkurookkoo @allie-mcginn @jkslvsnella @wintereals @why4anne @jakesfurry

285 notes · View notes

hedwig221b · 3 days ago

Note

hello! are you still doing sterek recs? if so do you know of any good ones where stiles has no idea how gorgeous he is/has no idea how obsessed derek is with him and genuinely thinks he doesn’t stand a chance in hell??? my heart burns for the drama

Sure! May I offer you these?

Gorgeous by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions)

Derek didn’t actually notice anything strange until the middle of the pack’s second year, but once he realized how many layers of clothing Stiles wore all the time, he couldn't stop noticing it. Curiosity and worry ate away at him every time the weather turned warm, until he felt he had to do something about it.

The Courting Dilemmas of a Spark and a Werewolf Prince by greenleaf

Talia smiled calmly. “I am well aware that you are not a werewolf, my darling, but I thought this would be the best reading material for you to use as reference. After all, how would you know how to act during a courting ritual if you do not study it?” “But I don’t… I’m not…” Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you setting me up with someone?” Talia rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be obtuse, my darling. Why would I set you up with someone –” “Oh, well, that’s good, because–” “–when I have a son who is already perfectly enamored with you?”

There's a Wolf in My Bed by halcyon1993

Three weeks after helping Derek stop his uncle, Stiles returns home from school to find the new alpha fast asleep on his bed. He doesn't know what to do about it, especially when it keeps happening.

What's Held on Our Shoulders by chameleonoverhere

Derek drops Stiles off at school, and this attracts the unwanted attention and harassment of some kid. He exploits Stiles' greatest insecurity, has him asking questions about his relationship with Derek that he never had before.

Pack nights are not for getting laid by igotdamn

Stiles goes out clubbing, Derek doesn't like that very much.

Unknown Power by LadyDrace

Stiles never really understood what Derek actually saw in him. But thanks to some filth and the scientific method, he finally starts getting the hint

Stiles is a Hottie series by dragon_temeraire

A series of unrelated fics where Stiles is just too hot. (I love this trope, so I will probably end up writing a lot for this)

it's obvious, you're oblivious by EvanesDust

Derek’s new roommate is alpha bait but seems disinterested in everyone—especially Derek. Stiles is suddenly popular, but can't seem to catch the interest of the only alpha he actually likes. …or the one where Stiles and Derek get paired together in room assignments and are secretly in love with the other.

Oh. . . you love me? by yeemo_crack

Stiles is bait. . . again. Stiles is injured. . . again. His wounds are so bad he ends up in hospital, and is shocked to find Derek there when he wakes up. What follows is a very interesting conversation with said Sourwolf where feelings are revealed and Stiles says some very dumb things. Excerpt As he traced the lines on his palm he also gradually drew away Stiles’ pain. The relief was dizzying, so as a result Stiles said something dumb. “Careful Dramawolf, if you carry on like this people might start to think you’re in love with me or something.”

How to Woo Your Local Omega by alocalband

Stiles knows a pity gift when he sees one. Mostly because that’s all he’s ever gotten from anyone since the moment he hit puberty.

erroneous manoeuvres by slippingfromreality

"Hey, Stilinski!” Stiles clenches his teeth. “What do you want, Hale?” he shouts back, not bothering to turn around. The smug smirk that’s most likely waiting for him is already seared into his mind from overexposure. “A date!” the answer comes, still as loud, and most of the bystanders giggle or snort in Stiles’ direction. Stiles rolls his eyes. This is the third time this week. He’d complain that Hale’s jokes are getting pretty stale, but he’d probably be milking this situation for all that it’s worth, too, if their roles were reversed. “Wrong aisle,” he grouses back, “try the bakery section. I hear they have fresh tarts.” Or, in which Stiles grievously misjudged his bullying situation.

272 notes · View notes

thedragonofbadasstemple · 1 day ago

Text

I don't normally comment on posts like this, but obsessed with the take as well that the point of this is to "cheer for them". The project is collecting testimonies from people who were involved with the MAGA movement, explaining why they fell into it, and why they left. We NEED stories like this to understand others and their viewpoints. We can't change people's minds, much less help them, if we can't understand why they think they way they do, or why the made the decisions that they did. Not everyone who voted for Trump did so for the same reason. Not everyone who wears a MAGA hat wears it for the same reason. A personal example, my father and my sibling both voted for Trump. My father blindsided me by this. He didn't vote for him the first two times, but did this time. With a sigh he explained his reason as "I watched the debates. He had a plan for the economy. Kamala didn't." He's a disabled vet. He works two jobs and my mom brings in more money than him. He's sick. He's a wounded dog that reached out for a shred of hope where he saw it. I know its misguided. I know that he made a lot of mistakes in life that led to where he is now, and that the economy is not to blame for his current predicament, but he can't see that. He has an entire lived experience different than mine that led up to this. My sibling is bisexual and transgender. He is 1.75 years younger than me. He is autistic and very mentally ill. He has never moved out from our parent's house, despite having thousands of dollars saved. He enjoys Warhammer 40k. He is a MAGA cultist. This is a change that happened out of nowhere for me. He blindsided me three years ago when we were hanging out on Christmas Eve and he wanted to show me Ben Shapiro stuff. I was surprised. I asked how could he watch that kind of stuff when he was queer and trans. He just responded "why are you bringing identity politics into this?" Its only gotten worse from there. Despite being trans himself, and despite me being his biggest ally and supporter for coming out to our parents, he misgenders me and says that he "doesn't believe in non-binary". He gets mad when I shit talk Trump and Elon. He is someone who doesn't always have a grip on reality, treats everything as a personal attack against him, and has little self-confidence. He has always been someone easily persuaded by others. Hes always had a nasty selfish streak. it makes absolute sense to me that he would end up falling into a hateful cult that would make him feel better than other people. If you have a loved one in the MAGA cult, you need to understand how they got to that point if you want to help them and get them out. If you want to be politically active and engage with other people of opposing viewpoints, then you need to know what those viewpoints are and why they hold those views in order to debate them. If you don't care, then you don't care. Not your circus, not your monkeys. But this information is valuable, even if its not relevant to you. No one is asking you to bend over backgrounds and congratulate anyone. This is just information for those who would seek it. That's all.

This is an interesting thing. Looks like testimonies of people who left the MAGA movement- how they got into it and why.

Leaving a cult is really hard, so I really respect the people who are speaking from this place.

29K notes · View notes

bewaryofpity · 20 hours ago

Note

fluff 19 withe luke hughes pls✨✨

thank you for requesting ! 🩶

19. “I think my family/friends really liked you. Maybe more than they like me.”

Luke didn’t necessarily hide you from his friends and family, he just wasn’t the type of guy to flaunt his relationship in front of everyone. He was reserved and private, so when he was met with his parents and brothers at the front door he felt like panicking.

He stood still, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, and it took you bumping into his back completely unaware of what was going on for him to get himself together. And when you finally followed his gaze, you mirrored his pose. You wanted to hide behind him, but the way his mom’s eyes immediately flickered between the two of you made it clear you had been caught.

“Why are you all here?” Luke asked.

“Dude, we play the Canucks tomorrow night. And I told you I was gonna pick up mom, dad and Quinn from the airport.” Jack grumbled, his brows raising before a slow smirk spread across his face. “Wait, who are you?”

Luke sighed, shifting awkwardly. “Y/N, my… girlfriend.” He whispered.

Quinn looked amused, his arms crossed as he studied the two of you. “And you just weren’t gonna tell us?”

“I mean, I was gonna tell you eventually.” Luke groaned.

Ellen though ignored her sons' teasing, stepping in front of you with a warm smile. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart.” She gave Luke a playful teasing look, “I wish we’d known sooner.”

You laughed, feeling a little more at ease already. “I think Luke just likes keeping me all to himself.”

“Sounds about right,” Jack muttered. “I live with you dude, why the fuck— ow!”

Ellen rolled her eyes at him, gently snaking the back of his head. Jim gave you a firm handshake and a friendly nod before they ushered inside to get comfortable.

The first few minutes were filled with little moments of teasing, mostly from Jack, but it didn’t take long for the conversation to settle and turn into something more natural. You found it easy talking with his parents, they instantly brushed off that Luke kept you a secret for months. Ellen was the first to tell you that she had a feeling that something, or rather someone, was making her son more at ease, more comfortable with himself now.

It wasn't long before dinner started and the conversation shifted away from you with Ellen talking about the kids growing up, sharing wholesome and fun memories, and you could tell how close Luke was to his family just by the way he listened, a small, content smile on his face, not complaining much about the embarrassing stories his mom was telling you.

He was quiet for the most part, just taking in how you fit so well with his family, yet he couldn’t help but still send you small glances, making sure you were okay. You laughed at their jokes, told your own stories about your childhood, answered any question that came your way about you and Luke.

“So, he asked for your number after he spilled his drink all over you, didn’t even ask for your name first?” Jack asked, leaning forward with interest, a boyish grin on his lips.

Luke shot him a glare. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing this.” Quinn said, smirking.

“Yes, but that wasn’t so bad. I’ll tell you, on our first date…” You grinned while Luke groaned, dropping his head into his hands as the rest of the family eagerly listened.

By the time the night wound down, everyone was exhausted from the long day. As you and Luke retreated to his room, he closed the door and leaned against it with a dramatic sigh.

“That was exhausting,” he mumbled.

You chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

He lifted his head, opening one of his eyes to give you a pointed look. “You know, I think my family really liked you. Maybe more than they like me.”

You smirked, motioning for him to join you on the bed. “Can you blame them?”

He groaned, letting his full body weight rest on top of you. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Don’t worry, Lu. You’re still my favorite Hughes.”

He huffed, but you felt him relax against you, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck. And after a while, between getting ready and finally settling underneath the covers, Luke pulled you to him, holding you close, the warmth of the day still lingering between you.

#v day special !#luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes x you #luke hughes #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl x you #bewaryofpity writes

280 notes · View notes

aureatelys · 2 days ago

Text

as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c.: 6k a/n: inspired by that one gifset of hotch desperately needing some moisturizer on his neck im so sorry. also my first time writing hotch's pov, pls be gentle. c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, kinda sunshine/girly!reader, mutual pining, alcohol mention, author pretending like they know about skincare, hotch is whipped and touch starved af, no y/n

summary:

You think Hotch needs to take better care of himself. Hotch doesn't know what to think. Or, 5 times you teach Hotch about skincare more than he wants to and 1 time he teaches you.

read below or ao3 here

one.

When Hotch first walks into the conference room ready to go over a new case, there’s something different that he can’t quite put his finger on.

Words dying in his throat, he sweeps his eyes over the entire room and doesn’t see anything significantly out of place. Then he’s passing over everyone’s faces, mentally keeping a note on how exhausted most of them are looking, and then landing on you.

Having only joined a couple of months ago, you were still fairly new to the team. However, with your sunny disposition and eagerness to learn, you blended right in. Hotch had watched in amusement as you were able to keep up with Reid’s ramblings, Morgan’s flirting, and Garcia’s antics. You were insightful, able to give new perspectives that Hotch would never have even considered, patient with victims and their families, and Hotch admired you for that.

Today, however, you look considerably suspicious as you give him a sheepish smile and a little wave. “Morning, Hotch,” you say, eyes sparkling, followed by a round of greetings from the rest of the team.

“Morning.” And then he spots a machine on the table near the wall, shaped and designed like a cat and spouting off what looks like steam at a steady and continuous rate.

Now that he’s noticed it, he realizes the conference room feels significantly stickier, the sudden humidity a stark contrast to the dry winter air outside. He can sense the slight congestion he’s been waking up to the past several months gradually disappearing.

“It’s a humidifier,” you explain after spotting the slightly confused expression Hotch was wearing, as if he’s never seen one before. To be fair, he doesn’t think he’s seen one in years as Haley was usually the one who dug it out of storage when Jack wasn’t feeling well. “I brought it from home, I thought it was a little dry in here. Is that okay?”

“I hope so, I was worried about getting a nosebleed the other day.”

“It’s good to have it around during this time of year, Hotch. Did you hear Anderson coughing this morning?”

“It’s also beneficial to have one on while you sleep, both with the white noise and being able to clear your sinuses and breathe easier with its optimal humidity levels.”

Truthfully, Hotch doesn’t care and he’s sure there isn’t some ridiculous regulation about not allowing a small humidifier, especially when Garcia has two space heaters in her office that you’ve had to ask to borrow at least twice a week.

However, the way you’re glancing up at him now from your spot at the round table, eyes wide and fluffy pink scarf wrapped around you because you apparently run colder than the rest of the team, Hotch would probably let you get away with anything.

He immediately sets that thought aside, not wanting to dwell on exactly what that means right now. He takes the only empty seat left that just happened to be right next to you, making sure to keep a respectable distance. “It’s fine. Just make sure to turn it off and empty it before we go.”

You give him a blinding smile that momentarily distracts him from the bubbling humidifier and the clouds of mist that are nearly falling into his face. “Sure thing. Did you know that it can also help with dry skin? So technically, we’re just taking care of our bodies if they ask why we need it.”

Although it makes sense now that he thinks about it, Hotch didn’t know that. He also doesn’t remember the last time he put on lotion or moisturizer, no matter how dry his hands felt.

Just then, Garcia wobbles in with her yellow heels and coffee mug, immediately launching into the brutal details of the case and where the team will be headed out to for the next couple of days.

When Hotch gets up to grab his go-bag from the office, he tries to ignore how it feels like he can breathe a little bit easier.

two.

“God, it’s freezing in here.”

Hotch glances up from his laptop mid-report to witness you taking the seat next to his with a resounding oof. You’re wrapped up in a blanket that you had brought from home that has somehow taken permanent residence on the jet, shivering despite the heater being on full blast. The corner of it lands on his knee, soft and warm.

The team had just finished a case in rural Montana, surrounded by mountains of snow and the wilderness. You had remembered to pack warmly at least, as Hotch had witnessed you struggling to take off the several layers of sweaters every time you arrived at the precinct. He remembers frowning in the car on the way to apprehend the unsub as you shivered in the passenger seat, having had to wear only a layer or two due to the bulky Kevlar vest and needing to be quick on your feet.

“It’ll warm up here in a second,” Hotch says, already wracking around his brain to see if there was another blanket hidden in a compartment somewhere. “A cup of tea will probably help.”

You slouch down further in your seat, cocooning yourself even further under the thick blanket. “I don’t want to get up.”

Hotch is almost tempted to lock his computer and get up to make you that cup of tea himself, however he glances around the cabin and notices several knowing pairs of eyes on him. He doesn’t have to be a profiler to know what the rest of the team thinks—that he’s gone soft on you.

You with your fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape and the thick socks that you put in your bag specifically for the plane ride home. He knows he’s not imagining the lingering glances you throw at Hotch or the way you occasionally stay late as an excuse to bother him in his office.

And he doesn’t necessarily mind. There’s a strange, innate pull that tugs in his stomach when it comes to you, causing him to watch you more carefully and seeking out your presence at almost every opportunity. The sheer grip of panic on his heart when you were shot after taking down an unsub by yourself and without backup several months ago had Hotch re-evaluating everything he knew about himself.

He’s aware of the possible repercussions, which is exactly why Hotch has learned to be patient when it comes to you, who has threatened him to forgo his patience altogether with every bubbly laugh he can hear from his office or knock of your shoulders against his in the conference room.

So he doesn’t get up to make you that cup of tea despite knowing how you take it with a splash of milk and two sugars, and instead turns back to finish the action report.

It’s only several minutes later when he notices you rummaging around in your bag out of the corner of his eye before you pull out a small and colorful lotion bottle with a triumphant noise. You pop the cap open and slather some on your hands before you’re turning to face Hotch again, the novel that Reid recommended to you untouched on the table. “Do you want some?”

The bottle in your hand looks somewhat familiar, most likely something he’s passed by at the store or on your desk, but Hotch balks at the pink flowers painted all over the bottle. He’s lucky the undoubtedly suffocating smell hasn’t hit him yet. “I’m fine, thanks.”

But you don’t put the lotion back in your bag, instead shifting in your seat until you’re fully facing him. Your blanket is nearly draped over Hotch’s thigh. “Are you sure? You know, it’s really important to make sure your hands are moisturized, especially with how cold it is here.”

He doesn’t know why you’re so adamant about this, peering up at him with bright and eager eyes and the open lotion bottle poised over his hands. He’s never liked putting on lotion, or any kind of creams, as it always made his hands feel uncomfortably greasy. He would eventually wash it off anyway.

He turns his attention back to his laptop, yet wordlessly puts a hand out towards your direction.

He thinks you’re going to pour a generous dollop and let him rub his own hands together, but instead, he nearly jumps in his seat when you’re grabbing onto his hand with both of yours and slathering whatever’s leftover on your hands into his palms and the back of his hands.

Your hands are cold, even moreso than his, but the sharp tingle that runs up his arm at your touch causes something warm to bloom in his chest.

“I didn’t want to waste it,” you respond to the confusion on his face. You’re thorough; making sure to slather the cream in between his fingers and even down to his wrists. He senses the sneaking glances the rest of the team are throwing his way, maybe even smug, but he’s painstakingly distracted by the way your hands look in his, the way he can feel both of your hands gradually warming up.

And then you’re pulling away, and Hotch suddenly misses your tender touch.

Like he expected, his palms suddenly feel gross, unpleasantly slippery like he has oil all over them. He wants to rub his palms on his pants or go wash his hands, but your watchful eyes stop him.

And then it hits him— the sudden scent of you, floral with some hints of vanilla, overwhelming his senses. It’s undeniably the same scent as your perfume, the one that seems to linger every time you stride past him at the office or when you’re leaning over Hotch to laugh at something Morgan said. Now, it causes him to sharply inhale, chest feeling unnervingly tight as he unconsciously marks it to his memory.

You’re still watching him with an expectant smile, bottle stored away in your bag for you to pull out again after you’ve gotten up to use the restroom and used the cheap hand soap that you’ve repeatedly complained about before. You look unfazed, as if your simple touch hasn’t sent Hotch’s brain reeling.

“It’s nice,” Hotch manages to say, voice only slightly strained. The smell is not as strong as he expected, but it’s still doing strange things to his heart more than he’d like to admit.

If possible, your smile widens. “Just nice?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s quite my signature scent.”

You hum and turn away, picking up your book despite Hotch knowing you’re not going to read a single page of it today, the spine already creased from where you’ve been laying it face down multiple times over the past month. “No, your signature scent already fits you.”

Hotch says nothing, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but your attention is already caught by the game of cards Reid and Emily are playing several seats away. You immediately set your novel down and scramble up and out of your seat to be their enthusiastic audience, leaving a trail of vanilla behind you.

Hotch immediately misses the warmth of your blanket.

three.

“What are you looking for now?”

You’ve been digging through your bag, your pink personal one that’s almost as big as your go bag, for the past five minutes. Hotch can hear the various items clinking around and the crinkling of multiple old receipt papers as you curse under your breath. He frowns, tempted to encourage you to clean out your bag if only to make packing more convenient for you. He couldn’t count the number of times you’ve exclaimed on the jet that you had forgotten something.

The team had gotten called to another small rural town in North Dakota for an unsub that’s been killing during the protective guise of blizzards, which is why Hotch was driving so painstakingly slow that Morgan would’ve surely had an aneurysm if he was in the same car. Despite the roads having already been salted, there was still a concerning amount of ice on the roads that had Hotch sitting ramrod straight in his seat and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were nearly turning white.

Luckily, it was only you and Hotch in the car, heater on full blast. You’re wearing at least three sweaters today with your coat draped over your legs and haven’t even complained once about it being too cold, citing how you’ve never seen this much snow before in your life. Hotch found it all extremely endearing watching you nearly jump in your seat at how the evergreen trees looked covered in snow. Like a Christmas movie, you had said.

“Found it!” You pull out a travel sized bottle of sunscreen, hurriedly twisting the cap open to squeeze and draw lines down three fingers.

Hotch glances at you out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed in confusion at your strange method. “Sunscreen? Are we going to the beach?”

“God, I hope not. I didn’t think to pack a swimsuit.” You roll your eyes while slathering the cream on your forehead, cheeks, down your neck, and even strangely over your ears before rubbing the rest on the back of your hands.

Hands tightening on the steering wheel, Hotch clears his throat. “I didn’t expect you to be so invested in your skin health.”

“It’s called skincare, Hotch,” you tease, screwing the cap back on but suspiciously leaving it out on your lap. “And it’s important to take care of your skin. Did you know that snow reflects UV rays, so even during winter you should put on sunscreen?”

Hotch chuckles before he could stop himself. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“Did you want some?” You’re twisting your body again to face Hotch, eyes sparkling despite it being horribly dreary and cloudy outside.

The only times Hotch has worn sunscreen was during especially hot summer days when he took Jack to the park or to go swimming. He’s seen you apply sunscreen in the office even when it was raining outside and the sun wasn’t forecasted to come out that day. He’s grown to learn not to ask questions.

“I’m okay, thanks.” The answer’s immediate, partly because he doesn’t need sunscreen and partly because he is concentrating on not crashing into a ditch.

“Come on, Hotch, it’s good for you!” He knows this is exactly the same thing you said on the jet several weeks ago, and since then, every time you’re putting on lotion and he’s somewhere in the near vicinity, you’re already squeezing some on his hands before he could respectfully decline. Luckily, you haven’t tried to apply it for him again.

You’re incredibly stubborn and Hotch wonders if you’re persuading the rest of the team to invest in expensive and fruity-smelling creams in an effort to have everyone properly take care of their bodies like you are with him.

“Alright.” And then he’s pulling his foot off the gas pedal just a bit to compensate for the distraction of having to put his hand out, desperately hoping you’re not going to lean over to apply it to his own face.

You luckily don’t squeal in excitement like he expected, just silently squirting the cream into careful and meticulous lines on his three fingers. Hotch can tell it’s definitely more of an expensive brand than what he was used to during the summer—lightweight and smelling like nothing.

Hotch carefully slathers it onto his face, starting at his forehead, down his nose, and then out to his cheeks and his chin. There’s still quite a lot left on his fingers and he remembers how you made sure to spread some on your neck, so Hotch does the same thing. However, he is definitely not going to put some on his ears.

Satisfied, you put the sunscreen away and twist as best as you could underneath your thick layers to put your bag in the backseat, because the floor of the car was too wet from the snow from your shoes.

“Happy?” Hotch’s face inexplicably feels greasier than he would like, but it’s not as bad as the vanilla-scented lotion or the cheap sunscreen laying forgotten in his closet. It’s already absorbed into his skin and when he rubs a hand along his jaw, he realizes that it must have had some moisturizer in it as well because his face feels softer than he was used to.

“Ecstatic,” you say, turning your face towards the window to hide the wide grin spreading across your face.

four.

The fourth time Hotch learns about skincare from you was completely and utterly by accident.

It had been a long and brutal couple of days chasing a serial in Tennessee, one that had nearly as much technological experience as Garcia. He had been two steps ahead of them until tonight, when they had finally caught a break and caught him before he could take any more women to hold hostage.

The all-consuming relief was palpable during dinner at the hotel restaurant despite the underlying knowledge that the same thing was going to happen next week. Conversation flowed, drinks were had, and Hotch was adamantly ignoring the fleeting looks you were throwing his way across the table.

Hotch and you had been dancing around each other for months, tension so tangible that the rest of the team were starting to feel uncomfortable. He’s been able to brush off Dave’s sly remarks in the privacy of his office, Morgan and Emily’s raised eyebrows tossed in his direction at every interaction he had with you, and Garcia’s elbow jabs at every possible second when you were in the room.

It's been frustrating for him, to say the least. He can’t tell them that he can’t make that choice for you, that he’s too conscious to not cross any of those professional boundaries himself. If that means that Hotch has to wait for several more months for you to make the first move, if that even happens, then so be it.

When Hotch watches the way you throw your head back in laughter at something Dave says at dinner, eyes bright and face slightly flushed from the wine, he thinks he’d be willing to wait as long as you wanted.

After being nearly kicked out of the restaurant from being too rowdy and Hotch hinting at being able to take the rest of tomorrow off once they fly back in town early, the team quietly shuffles back to their respective rooms. He knows there’s about a 50/50 chance that most of them will sneak out to a nearby bar in ten minutes, but at least he warned them ahead of time.

“Night, Hotch,” you had said, giving him a little smile and wave before your door across the hallway clicked shut.

Something warm settled in Hotch’s chest at that, so he did the most reasonable thing to cope with the unfamiliar and turned the TV on to a random news channel. With the volume on low and his laptop and files laid out on the rickety table, he got to work.

Several hours pass like that as he throws himself into the fine print, going over everyone’s action reports from last week and shuffling through old crime photos to make sure everything matched. It was a familiar process, and almost concerning with how much comfort he’s found in it—the scratch of his pen, the drone of the city several floors down, and the growing smudge of ink on his hand from his thoughts running faster than he could write.

When he gets to your report and notices it’s missing several key points of the case, as well as your loopy signature, he frowns.

The immediate thought that comes to mind would be to just put the file aside and move onto the other one. It wasn’t as if the report was due this second and he knows there were plenty of others that required more immediate attention.

The other thought that emerges, almost reluctantly, was that Hotch could easily go across the hallway and ask you to take a look at it and finish the report rather than waiting for the following morning on the jet when the rest of the team was undoubtedly going to be hungover. Prentiss was most certainly going to be cranky and demand everyone to be quiet because the hum of the jet was already grating enough. He’d just be doing the team a favor.

That’s what Hotch tells himself as he stands up from the low desk, neck and back aching, and makes his way out his room and to yours across the hall.

He briefly pauses, straining his ears as if he could hear anything through the door and over the erratic thumping of his own heart. Hotch is suddenly aware that you may be sleeping, or even out with the rest of the ladies to a sleazy bar, and he’s about to turn back around with defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders when he hears the click of the bathroom door open and your humming, faint even through the thick wooden door.

Feeling confident that he’s not disturbing you and something else Hotch can’t name at the fact that he’s going to be seeing you in the privacy of your hotel room, he raps twice against the door.

“Just a second!” And then the door swings open.

Hotch’s attention is immediately caught by the fluffy headband you’re wearing, light pink and with a comically large bow in the center. You’ve clearly just gotten out of the shower, the scent of your body wash infiltrating Hotch’s senses and causing him to tighten his grip on the files he forgot he was holding in the first place.

You’re wearing a matching set of light blue pajamas, short and clinging to your body in a way that has Hotch immediately tearing his gaze away and back to your bare face. Your lips are glossy, slicker than normal, there’s a drop of water slowly trailing down the side of your neck, and a dab of cream on your cheek that you seem to have not noticed.

“Hotch?” you ask, confused, before letting out a squeak and crossing your arms over your chest in an effort to hide your modesty. Hotch ignores the fact that it just makes everything worse. “Is everything okay? Don’t tell me there’s a case.”

The droplet of water has disappeared underneath the collar of your shirt and the scent of vanilla nearly suffocates him. “No case. Just needed to get your final touches and signature on this report.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained to you as it does to him as he remembers why he was standing in your hotel doorway in the first place, the files in his hand suddenly weighing like a ton.

You don’t seem to notice anything wrong, if anything, a slow smile spreads across your face that has Hotch’s stomach flipping.

You look radiant, the intimacy of being near you in your pajamas when you were clearly in the middle of your nighttime routine not going unnoticed. He peers over the top of your head to notice your go bag on your bed, clothes and your personal laptop strewn all over the comforter, and the TV being tuned to what you’d call an “entertaining yet trashy show.”

“You’re still working even though you’re the one who suggested having an early night? It’s late.”

Hotch blinks at you because what else would he have done if not attempt to catch up on the seemingly never-ending pile of papers and reports? “You’re still up late too.”

You roll your eyes. “I was just about to go to bed before you knocked, so technically I have better work-life boundaries than you.”

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

You study him—still wearing his suit sans the jacket, tie only slightly loosened and sleeves rolled up his forearms. He hadn’t even bothered to put his shoes back on, comfortable enough with the hotel’s reputation to be in his room and take the two steps across the carpeted hallway in his socks.

“As long as you make it fast.” And then you’re stepping aside and opening the door further, the sweetness of the vanilla nearly pulling Hotch in.

Except he’s somehow distracted by the dollop of cream still on your cheek, right underneath your eye. Witnessing first-hand the twinkling of your eyes as you glance up at him and the way your pink headband has your hair pushed back, baring the most of your face he’s ever seen, has him sidetracked.

“You have a little…” He motions to his own face, hoping that you will take the hint.

And you don’t, not exactly, because of course you don’t. You immediately swipe at your face but on the wrong cheek and stare down at your hand when you don’t catch anything. “What?”

Hotch is a problem-solver, meticulous, and always thinks things through. That’s his job, to always be two steps ahead of anyone and everyone. So he’s not sure how or why he’s suddenly reaching a hand out to swipe at the cream on your face with his thumb, his touch lingering on the warmth of your cheek.

Whatever Hotch was going to say dies in his throat at the very audible hitch of your breath, the way your eyes widen at his close proximity. Your skin is smooth, softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he ignores the way you’re staring into him as he pulls back and absentmindedly rubs the moisturizer in the palm of his other hand. If he tries hard enough, the cream on his own skin nearly replicates the feeling of yours.

He's about to clear his throat to apologize, maybe even mention something about how the report can technically wait until tomorrow and turn right on his heel back into his room to ignore the adamant weight pressing down on his chest, when your expression changes.

Something almost akin to smugness tugs at the corners of your lips, the shininess inexplicably different and more distracting than your usual lipstick. Your bright eyes dance with amusement before your arms fall from where they were crossed on your chest to your sides.

“You know, I’m wearing a lip mask right now if you want some of that too.”

“Excuse me?”

If possible, your grin widens, causing Hotch to internally deny that he was suddenly feeling breathless. “I use a lip mask every night. They just make them look so kissable, right?”

Something in Hotch snaps, because if that wasn’t a clear invitation, he doesn’t know what is.

When he finally steps into your room, closing the door behind him, you’re slowly backing up until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall with that infuriating grin on your face.

You’re playing with him, you’ve been playing with him, but he doesn’t care and can’t even think about that when you’re peering up at him with soft eyes.

When Hotch brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, he thinks his stomach nearly twists itself into a knot at the immediate way you lean into him and the way your eyes flutter shut.

When he finally kisses you, he can smell the sweetness of the raspberry lip mask before he tastes it, seamlessly blending in with your vanilla body wash and making him feel more drunk than he’s felt in a long time.

You place your hands on his chest, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and something about touching him has you unconsciously parting your lips to deepen the kiss, causing the smell of raspberry to become stronger.

Hotch can immediately feel the stickiness of your mask on his mouth, and he’s tempted to pull away at the unfamiliarity of something on his lips, but then you’re sighing into him and his hands are suddenly on your waist where the bottom of your pajama top has barely lifted. The warmth of your skin was intoxicating.

You have to be the first one to break the kiss, and when Hotch opens his eyes, you’re staring at him, your smirk having morphed into a smile of disbelief. His eyes flit to the almost imperceptible smear of gloss at the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little…” You trail off, your eyes drifting to his own lips, your smile doing nothing to calm the erratic rhythm Hotch’s heart has taken.

Hotch wonders how much you had put on yourself because the amount that he can feel on his lips makes him immediately want to swipe at his mouth. But that would mean having to take his hands off of you and he doesn’t think he has the willpower for that.

Instead, he rubs his lips together in an effort to spread the tackiness equally over his lips before he says “I like it, but I don’t think I got enough.”

You huff a laugh at that, your fingers tightening from where they’re gripping the lapels of his dress shirt. “I think I can help you with that.”

five.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Just five more minutes, I promise!”

That’s what you had said ten minutes ago. It’s not like Hotch is impatient per se, just content that you had agreed to sleep over again after another late date night and there wasn’t a looming case coming up.

You had only slept over one other time when the team had gotten back from a case late and Hotch wasn’t going to let you drive yourself home when you could barely keep yourself standing. You had dozed off the entire car ride home, head leaning against the window which caused Hotch to adamantly avoid all the potholes and tight turns, and yet you still managed to do your skincare routine in his ensuite bathroom before coming to bed.

After that night in your hotel room, you’ve become bolder. You’re now sitting next to Hotch on the jet, you make your way up to his office when there were still plenty of people milling about in the bullpen, and the way you peer up at him through your eyelashes during case briefings has him itching for a cold shower.

Neither have you said anything to the rest of the team, but at this point, Hotch doesn’t think he has to with the way both Dave and Morgan have patted him on the back the day after you laughed at something Emily had said and leaned against him, leaving his shoulder thrumming from your warmth for the next hour.

Another five minutes pass and Hotch can still hear the clinking of your serums as you rummage through your cosmetics bag. He silently sets aside his phone to get up from his extremely comfortable spot in the bed to pad his way over to the bathroom.

The sight that greets him has Hotch’s stomach plummeting all over again.

You’re sporting that same headband with the pink bow again, however this time, you’re wearing one of his old academy shirts that had mysteriously gone missing from his dresser several weeks ago. You’re freshly showered and you’re holding onto some kind of strangely shaped metallic instrument that you’re scraping over your cheekbones and then down your neck. The way it drags over your skin has Hotch cringing sympathetically.

You immediately spot him, meeting his gaze through the mirror, and the way your eyes immediately light up has a small smile forming on Hotch’s face before he can help it. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” Hotch leans against the doorway, content to watch the clearly practiced movements of you rubbing your skin with this strange contraption. “It’s been over five minutes.”

You pout. “Sorry, I’ve been holding this off all week and I need to do it tonight.”

Hotch was sure that “need” was a strong word, but he doesn’t question it. He stopped questioning your thorough skincare routine months ago.

And then you turn to him, something mischievous tugging at your glossy lips. “Wanna try it?”

Apprehension thuds in his chest, but he takes a step forward into the glow of the bathroom anyway. “And what is it exactly?”

Detecting your hesitation a mile away, you give him a warm smile as you hold it up to him. “It’s called a gua sha. It’s supposed to help with blood flow and getting rid of toxins and all that.”

Hotch may not be a beauty or skincare expert, but he has doubts that this piece of metal can actually do all of those things. To be fair, he’s had quite a few doubts about most of the items you use and not so subtly make him try.

The delight painted clear on your face though has Hotch tucking those thoughts away. He’s sure he has no right to question one’s own method on how to relax.

“Okay.”

You immediately muffle a squeal and turn to grab some other serum you left out on the sink, a light gold swimming around in the bottle.

“I’ll only do half of your face, I promise.” You squeeze some of the mysterious liquid on your hands and reach up to pat the left side of his face.

It’s thicker than your usual products, most likely some kind of oil that smells like roses, but the heat from your hand and your close proximity has Hotch feeling inexplicably warm all over.

“Okay, now you just use this side to run up your cheekbone like this.” You demonstrate for him and he adamantly makes note of the light pressure you’re using. “And then you run it down your face and down your neck.”

When he attempts to copy your movements with the warm metal, he doesn’t notice any difference in how his skin feels or the blood flow in his face, but you’re studying him so closely that Hotch is tempted to say he does.

It’s a strange sensation, but honestly it doesn’t feel any different than if he used his own fingers to rub up against his cheekbone or jawline.

When he puts the piece of metal back in your open palm, you’re nearly teeming with excitement. “So, what do you think?”

He pauses. “I don’t think it’s for me, sweetheart.”

You pout but he can tell that you’re not offended. “Boo. Fine, I’ll meet you in bed, handsome.”

Hotch is about to turn back to go to bed before he remembers the thick oil covering half of his face, evenly dispersed but still uncomfortable and will surely stain his pillowcase. He attempts to discreetly wipe at it with his hand as best as he can before quickly rubbing it off on your arm and escaping.

The screech you let out echoes in his bathroom as you try to swat at him and narrowly miss, and the way he feels heat tinge at the tip of his ears is better than any metallic contraption’s claim to improve blood flow.

On his days off, Hotch much prefers spending as much time as he can at home, either with Jack, you, or, more recently, both. Even if Hotch technically sees you every day in the bullpen, you at work is much different than the you at home.

Or at least, he likes to think there’s a difference as you drag him to the grocery store during what was possibly the quietest afternoon he’s had in several months.

I just have to pick up a couple of things, you had said as you buckle your seatbelt in the passenger side. We’ll be back home in a jiffy.

Never mind the fact that the word home coming from your lips has Hotch’s mind reeling. You’ve been seeing each other for several months now and he’s almost sure that you haven’t stepped foot in your own apartment for at least a month. You’ve taken up half of his dresser, most of his closet space, and the entirety of the counter space in the bathroom with your multi-colored serums and skincare tools that don’t work no matter what you claim.

He follows you around the store, dutifully pushing the grocery cart, as you mentally go through your checklist on all the toiletries you’re almost out of. Which is why he finds himself in the cosmetics aisle when you exclaim “Oh, I forgot about tomatoes for taco Tuesday!” and scamper off before he could say there were plenty of tomatoes from last time in the fridge because Jack has suddenly decided he doesn’t like them anymore.

He's content to wait, maybe check his emails on his phone, when he spots the familiar label of his face wash out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a brand that Haley had recommended for him when they were in college and Hotch knew absolutely nothing about skincare then, so he just continued buying it. He’s gone through countless bottles over the years, having used it nearly every day, yet Hotch finds himself frowning as he stares at the bright orange bottle.

The large bold letters advertise the cleanser being able to effectively combat oiliness, but Hotch distinctly remembers you offhandedly mentioning how lucky he was to have dry skin and not a combination like you.

Honestly, he had no idea, but it would make sense with how you were constantly slathering him in lotions and creams any chance you got.

He browses through the available cleansers, keeping an eye out for those that treat dry skin, when you sidle up next to him with a bag of tomatoes that were undoubtedly not going to get eaten. He can hear the hesitation in your voice when you ask “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something different.”

“Oh yeah? I knew I was wearing you down, Hotchner. Soon, you’re going to be begging me to take you to Sephora.” You’re joking but Hotch can detect the underlying seriousness in your voice.

He continues as if he didn’t hear you. “I’ve been using the wrong face wash for my skin so I’m looking for a different one. I probably haven’t been doing my skin any favors all these years.”

A pause. And then, incredulously, you say “Who taught you that?”

Finding one that was a good size and affordable enough to try, Hotch grabs it and throws it into the cart. When he meets your eyes, you’re staring up at him with a disbelieving smile.

“You did.” And it’s true—Hotch would’ve never thought about the long-term benefits of having a humidifier in the bedroom or the importance of sunscreen everyday if it weren’t for you. Taking care of your appearance was clearly important to you, which meant it was now important to him.

You stare at him, lips parted as if you’re at a loss for words. Your skin is glowing even under the harsh fluorescent grocery store lighting. “You’re such a sweet talker, you know that?”

You toss the tomatoes in the cart, making him wince, and loop your arm through his to tug him along the aisle. You smell sugary sweet with maybe a hint of his cologne from where you had slept in one of his old shirts last night. Hotch remembers how he had felt lightheaded, fondness flooding his chest, when he woke to you laying on his chest this morning. He tugs you closer into his side.

“Does this mean that you’ll try that new light therapy mask that I bought?”

“One step at a time, honey.”